


I won't always love what I'll never have; I won't always live in my regrets

by benicemurphy



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Adam being who he is as a person, Adam in a Thong, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Arguing, Break Up, But Not Much, Cherry is Bad at Feelings, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Healing, Emotional Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Friendship, Heartbreak, Hopeful Ending, Joe being a little bit of a slut, M/M, Making Up, Masturbation, Moving On, Mutual Pining, Mutually Pining Joe/Cherry, Outdoor Sex, POV Alternating, Pining, Pining Kikuchi Tadashi, Pining Kyan Reki, Politics, Post-Break Up, Reki being a supportive friend actually, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, See Author's Note for details, Self-Discovery, Sneaking Around, Sort Of, adam is bad at feelings, demisexual Langa, everyone is bad at feelings, everyone is in love with Adam, one-sided Reki/Langa, one-sided Tadashi/Adam, past Cherry/Adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29897049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/pseuds/benicemurphy
Summary: Carefully, Langa peels up the blue seal. There’s a plain, off-white card inside that simply says,2:00 factory. There’s no signature, but Langa knows who it’s from. His heart begins to race in earnest. It’s stupid. It would beso stupidto go there. So irresponsible. Adam is a terrifying, wild person, and Langa would be the world’s biggest idiot to meet him alone, late at night, without telling anyone where he’s going.On the other hand... If he doesn’t go, he realizes, he’ll regret it. There’s something good waiting for him there. An adventure.Or: the convoluted ship fic in which Adam and Reki both love Langa, Langa and Tadashi both love Adam, Cherry and Joe love each other but Cherry still loves Adam a little bit first, and everyone gets therapy when it's all over, hopefully.
Relationships: Hasegawa Langa & Kyan Reki, Hasegawa Langa/Shindo Ainosuke | Adam, Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom
Comments: 136
Kudos: 109





	1. Langa

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic right after episode 5 and it took me until after episode 9 to finish, so Langa's characterization sticks significantly closer to episodes 1-7 Langa in this fic! Also, there's no tournament. It's COMPLETELY FINISHED, so I will be posting chapters as quickly as I can proofread them!
> 
> Regarding ships: This is an Eden fic in that they are romantically and sexually involved throughout most of it, and it's the main focus of the fic, though there are chapters that focus on other relationships.
> 
> It's only tagged underage because Langa is *technically* 17 and I don't want my fic taken down. I'm pretty sure I tagged everything, but if I missed something big, please let me know.
> 
> Additional Warnings (SPOILERS):  
> If you're worried about the ending, it is hopeful/ambiguous in that there are several directions it could go in the future. You can decide if Adam and Langa are together in the end, or if they go their separate ways and end up with different people. I tried to make it so that everyone is better off in the end than they were in the beginning, so although it's ambiguous, I consider it happy/hopeful.  
> One-sided ships: You have the option to decide in the end if they end up together.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING SPOILER FOR CHAPTER 8: There is a short scene that you could maaayyyyybeeee call dubcon if you try *really* hard, although it IS 100% consensual (and hopefully comes across that way), but just in case.

“Langa… You should stay away from him.”

_No. That’s… that’s no good_.

“Got it,” Langa says instead. He’s not sure if he can keep that promise or not, but Reki is a good friend. It would be wrong to make him needlessly worry.

____________________

Nearly a month after their first beef, Langa hasn’t seen Adam since. He can’t stop thinking about what Adam said when they last saw each other: “I’ll make sure to see you soon.” How soon is _soon_ , exactly?

He kicks a rock on the road in front of him and watches it bounce irregularly until it stops near a streetlight. It’s late, which means nobody else is really out right now in his sleepy little neighborhood. It’s nice and quiet. Plenty of room to think.

Langa sighs. He’s gotten so much better in the past month— He could beat Adam now; he’s sure of it.

Maybe.

Adam is… a force to be reckoned with. He has something that nobody else has. He has a hypnotism to him that Langa hasn’t been able to forget. It’s exactly what he was looking for when he first started skating. It feels like it did back home, in Canada, on the slopes with the snowflakes flurrying around him as he flew. That race with Adam, if it could even be called that, is the most alive Langa has felt since his dad died.

His text message chime sounds in his pocket. He pulls out his phone, already sure who’s messaging him, and smiles when he’s right.

**Reki: Park tomorrow?? Got a new trick I wanna try!!**

There’s a sticker of a bunny giving a peace sign attached.

**Langa: see you there**

The streetlight flickers, and a patrol car drives by. Langa stops as the officer in the driver’s seat rolls down the window.

“It’s late out,” the officer says. “Better get on home.”

Langa nods.

“Now, son.”

It’s an incredible effort not to roll his eyes; the cops around here must be really bored if they can spend so much time chasing down skateboarders and people walking in their own neighborhood. “On my way,” he says, and waves to the officer as he continues on in the direction of his house.

The car follows him nearly all the way home. He doesn’t bother to turn back and look as he enters his home, not willing to give them the satisfaction of being acknowledged.

His mom looks up from her book where she’s sitting on the couch. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” Langa answers. He heads to the fridge for a late-night snack. There’s not much in there for snacking besides a whole melon, but that seems fine, so he takes it out and gets to work cutting into it and cleaning out the seeds.

Behind him, he hears the sound of his mother’s book closing. “Are you sure? You’ve seemed a little down lately. Did something happen?”

_No. That’s the problem_.

“Nothing happened. Just a little bored, I guess.”

“Hm.” She waits, studying him, and when he doesn’t say anything, continues. “You’ve made some nice friends. Do you want to have Reki over this weekend?”

“Sure.” Cutting and cleaning complete, he tosses the melon rinds into the composter and puts all of the good pieces into a bowl.

“A whole melon? At eleven o’clock at night?”

Langa pauses with the fork to his mouth. “Were you saving it for something?”

His mom just laughs and pats him on the head as she stands and retreats to her bedroom. “You won’t always be able to eat like that, Langa. Enjoy it while you can.”

____________________

“Damn it!”

Reki pounds the ground where he lies prone. He’s been trying to master the same move for a good hour but has yet to actually land it.

Langa looks up from where he’s taking a break at the top of the quarter pipe. “Didn’t it take you two months to learn to ollie?”

The look Reki shoots him is equal parts horrified and indignant. “Are you saying you think it’s going to take me two months to get this right?!”

“I’m just saying—”

“Langa-kun.”

Reki’s attention shifts behind Langa to the source of the voice. Puzzled, Langa turns and finds a very out-of-place town car pulled up to the curb in front of the skatepark. Next to the car is a serious-looking man in a suit who Langa vaguely recognizes.

“I have a message for you.” The man pulls a bright red envelope from his coat pocket and hands it to Langa. Langa takes it, curious to open it but unsure what to expect. He runs a thumb over the wax seal, deep blue and pressed with a fanciful letter _S_. “Please respond at your earliest convenience,” the man says, stepping back to let himself back inside the car.

“Wha— How will I respond?” Langa asks before the door closes in his face.

The man glowers at him, eyes holding much more animosity than the situation warrants. “All of the information you need is there.” Then the door closes, and the car pulls away.

“What was that all about?”

Langa studies the envelope some more. It feels… personal. Like something he wants to open when he’s by himself. “Don’t know,” he says, stuffing the envelope into his back pocket before Reki can get a good look at it.

“What does it say?”

“I’ll read it later,” Langa answers. It feels… personal. Like something he should open when he’s by himself.

“Oh come on, let me see it! It looks so fancy.”

“It’s probably nothing.”

“If it’s nothing, then let me see it.”

“I’ll tell you what it says if it’s interesting,” he hedges. It’s probably not true, and Langa knows that. “Probably just a thank-you note or something.” He hopes Reki didn’t hear the part about responding at his earliest convenience.

“A thank-you note?” Reki questions. “For what?”

“Don’t know.” Langa puts his board down and pushes off, crouching into position. “Bet I can land it before you do!”

Reki takes the bait easily. “No way! It’s my signature trick!”

“Not until you land it!”

____________________

At home that night, Langa lies on his bed with the note in his hand. The wax seal is a little bit warped from being in his back pocket all day and getting repeatedly crushed, but the “S” is still distinguishable.

Is it a beef? A formal invitation to skate with Adam again? Is that something he would do?

The idea thrills him. He can’t stop thinking about their race— their dance, really. He still feels the ghost of the sensation of Adam’s hand against his abdomen, pulling him flush against Adam’s front. His heart skips a beat. It makes him feel a little off-kilter. He’s been feeling that way a lot more often since that night. Adam’s body pressed right up against his back, Adam’s legs pushing his apart, the way Adam had dipped him so low but held him there, not wavering, in complete control.

There’s something to be said for that, isn’t there? Sure, he’s dangerous. Langa knows that. But he also knows he felt something _real_ that night— something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever.

He turns the envelope over again. The front is bare: no name, no return address, nothing. The only thing left to do is look inside.

Carefully, Langa peels up the blue seal. There’s a plain, off-white card inside that simply says, _2:00 factory_. There’s no signature, but Langa knows who it’s from. His heart begins to race in earnest. It’s stupid. It would be _so stupid_ to go there. So irresponsible. Adam is a terrifying, wild person, and Langa would be the world’s biggest idiot to meet him alone, late at night, without telling anyone where he’s going.

On the other hand... Adam hadn’t actually hurt him in that race. He teased and threatened and taunted Langa, but he didn’t hurt him.

The clock on the wall reads 21:48. It’s still early. He has about three hours to decide what to do.

Reki’s last text is still pulled up on his phone. It says:

**Reki: I’m bringing my English homework too. You have to help me!!**

He’s coming over tomorrow just to hang out, staying the night like his mother suggested because it’s been a while. If Langa goes out tonight and something happens, he’ll have to tell Reki about it. It would be directly violating the promise he made to stay away from Adam. It would be seeking out trouble.

But if he doesn’t go...

If he doesn’t go, he realizes, he’ll regret it. There’s something good waiting for him there. An adventure.

So he wishes his mother a good night, tuns off all of the lights, and sets his alarm for one A.M.

____________________

Crazy Rock is _far_ on foot, and by the time he makes it to the gates, he’s sweaty and out of breath. If Adam insists on skating against him tonight, he’s in serious trouble.

For the first time tonight, it really begins to set in what an insane decision this is. But he’s here now, and Langa made up his mind hours ago. He’s not changing it now.

The gate is latched— there must not have been a race tonight, or if there was, it’s long over. There’s no sign that anyone has been here, and the gate is chained shut. The only way Langa knows how to get to the factory is by skating through the course. He looks around to see if there’s another way around, but comes up short. The only option is to jump the fence.

It’s tall, but luckily Langa has long legs and enough agility to get to the top using the thick cross beams for leverage. The problem is at the top where he’s blocked by two rows of heavily barbed wire. He won’t be able to get through it, which means his only option is to go over it. But if he misses, he’s screwed. And even if he manages to get over the wire, it’s a long drop; he could seriously injure himself. But he’s at the top, and when faced with the choice to either drop back down and go home, or risk it and see what’s waiting for him up ahead, there’s no contest.

Langa stands slowly, trying to get as steady a footing as possible at the top where the beams intersect. With all of the courage he has, he counts himself down—

One. He positions his skateboard in front of him.

Two. He crouches, readying himself to push off.

Three. He leaps.

He barely resists the urge to close his eyes, but once he sees he’s cleared the barbed wire, he lets out a whoop of victory. He has time to get his board under his feet before he lands, and from there lets his momentum carry him down the hill.

Even without all of the screaming spectators, it’s a thrill. Being here alone and in the dark with no one around to stop him from doing whatever he wants, he understands what Adam meant about being truly free.

The ride down feels longer with nobody to keep pace with, so Langa lets himself enjoy it. He feels the wind whip through his hair and dry the sweat on his skin. He feels like shouting, so he does. He rides the outer curves of the corners and slaloms down the hill.

It’s _fun_. It feels familiar and homey. It’s almost disappointing when the terrain transforms and he finds himself inside, but he enjoys the ride down all the same.

The factory appears empty when he gets to the finish line, so he lets himself take a breather. He’s sitting on his board, tracing invisible patterns on the ground, when a shadow moves into his line of vision.

Langa looks up— and up, and up, until he meets Adam’s ornate mask. He’s dressed in his full S outfit, which, although it’s the only way Langa has ever seen him, takes Langa somewhat by surprise.

“Hello, Langa-kun,” Adam says. His voice is smooth like butter. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you came.”

Langa stands and takes a step forward. “Why did you ask me here?”

“I wanted to see you,” Adam answers as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I brought you a gift.” He pulls something from his pants pocket and extends it toward Langa.

Inside the small box is a silver chain. It’s beautiful, and undoubtedly expensive.

“I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

The corner of Adam’s lips turn up into a knowing smile. “Do you still have my roses?”

Langa’s eyes go wide. He does have them. He gave them to his mother the next morning, but when he sees them, he thinks of Adam’s declaration of “passionate love.”

“You do.” Adam grins. “Oh, Eve. It makes me so happy that you treasure the things I give you.” He takes a step closer. Langa’s instincts scream at him to back away, but he can see Adam’s eyes behind the mask from here, and he feels pulled forward as he holds Adam’s gaze. “I can give you so much more, if you allow me.”

One gloved hand comes up behind Langa, ghosting over the small of his back, and it makes Langa’s muscles jump. Adam doesn’t touch — he’s never touched Langa outside of their race — but now Langa wishes he _would_ , if for no other reason than because the anticipation of the touch nearly drives him crazier than the actual thing.

“Would you like for me to put that on for you?”

Like he’s being reeled in, Langa takes another step into Adam’s personal space. The grin Adam gives him in return verges on predatory. “What is it, Langa?” Adam’s fingertips brush his throat as he fastens the chain around Langa’s neck. “Is there something you want? Something you _need_?” Langa’s heart thunders in his chest.

_Yes_. There _is_ something he needs. He just doesn’t know _what_ , yet.

“There is,” Adam says. “And when you figure out what it is, you’ll call me.” He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a slip of paper, which he slides into Langa’s pocket with delicate fingers.

“Why should I call you?” Langa whispers. He doesn’t meant to, it’s just— it’s just that, fuck, he can’t concentrate right now. And when Adam leans so close that Langa can feel Adam’s hair graze his cheek, his mind goes totally blank except for the smell of Adam’s cologne and the sensation of Adam’s breath against his ear.

“That’s up to you, Langa-kun. But you will.”

Then Adam pulls away, and Langa is left bereft. He watches Adam walk away, realizing he’s short of breath and confused as to why that might be. He has the odd urge to follow Adam and demand something, anything, but he doesn’t know what he wants. “Wait,” he calls before he can stop himself.

Adam turns.

“I thought you invited me out here to skate with you.”

“Mm, so that’s what you want,” Adam muses. “Would you like that now, Snow? Would you like me to take you to the top of the course and have my way with you again?”

Langa swallows. “We never finished our last race.”

There’s a brief pause, and then Langa is swept off his feet as he’s grabbed around the middle and spun into a dip. Adam grins down at him from above. His arm, wrapped around Langa’s back, is strong and sure; Langa insanely trusts him not to let him fall.

Langa’s skateboard is still on the ground where he stood before Adam picked him up, so they’re currently sharing one board. Adam glides them around the factory floor in another dance. It feels different moving like this on flat ground. It’s thrilling in its own way.

He lets himself be whipped around at Adam’s will, twisting and ducking and jumping whenever Adam tells him to. There’s no one watching here. There’s no music. It’s just the two of them, moving together in a way that feels free and exciting and completely self-indulgent.

When’s the last time Langa did anything just for himself?

Since his dad died, he’s been doing his best to help take care of his mom. Since he moved to Okinawa, he’s been skating beefs on Reki’s behalf. And he loves his mom and Reki, and he loves doing those things for them, but this? This is for himself.

He nearly stops breathing when Adam pulls him so close he can feel Adam’s breath on his lips. Their spinning slows to a stops, but they stay where they are. Langa feels like he’s dangling by a thread, Adam’s arms around him are the only thing holding him up.

“Adam,” he pants. He doesn’t know what he wants, just that he doesn’t want this to end yet.

“Langa.”

He can’t find the words to say. Adam’s eyes bore into his, waiting. Langa’s hands clench where they’re holding onto Adam. The fabric of his shirt bunches in his hands. Adam grins.

Adam leans down, and for a moment Langa thinks Adam might kiss him. The most terrifying part is that Langa thinks he wouldn’t hate that— he wouldn’t hate that at all. Instead, Adam drags his nose up Langa’s throat. He hovers just above Langa’s pulse point; there’s no doubt in Langa’s mind that Adam can hear the rapid beating of his heart from this close.

“Call me when you know what you want,” Adam says. His lips graze the skin there, then lower, mouthing at the new chain, and then he pulls away.

Langa staggers on his feet when Adam lets him go. There’s nothing to do except watch Adam turn away and exit the factory. Through the open door, he sees the same car from earlier with the same man standing outside, waiting to let Adam in. The man’s cool gaze chills Langa; he feels the disdain even from here, but Adam doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“See you soon, Langa-kun.”

The car door closes just before the heavy factory door obstructs Langa’s view. He stands there, dumbstruck, unsure what he just experienced but with the new knowledge that he might already be in deeper than he realized.


	2. Chapter 2

“Langa. LANGA!”

A chunk of bagel hits Langa square in the forehead, drawing him out of his thoughts. He looks across the table at Reki, who’s eyeing him with concern. “What’s up with you, man?”

“Nothing,” Langa says. “Just spacing out. You know how I get.”

“Yeah, you get spacey, but not like this,” Reki argues. “It’s been hard to hold a conversation with you recently. You sure you’re alright?”

Langa shrugs. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” Reki picks up his bagel, turns it around in his hands, and sets it back down. “Does this have something to do with that note you got?”

Langa feels his face flush hot and curses his pale skin for giving him away.

“So it does. Are you ever going to tell me what was in it? I know it wasn’t a thank-you note or you wouldn’t be blushing.” A wicked grin spreads across Reki’s face. “Is it a love letter? From a cute girl?” Langa shakes his head, but before he can deny it, Reki interrupts him. “Is it someone in our class?” His expression turns pensive. “I don’t think you’ve met any other girls outside of school, at least not that I know of. And you’re basically always with me, so…”

“It’s not a girl,” Langa snaps.

Reki’s eyes blow wide. “So it’s… a boy?”

“It wasn’t a love letter!”

There’s a long beat of silence, and then Reki asks, very carefully, “Would it… make you mad? If a boy gave you something like that?”

“No,” Langa answers. “Why would that make me mad?”

“People around here don’t always react well to that kind of thing,” Reki says. “Not speaking from experience, or anything! I mean, I’ve never gotten anything like that from a boy before. Plus, I like girls.”

Langa takes the time to really look at Reki now. When he and his mom moved here, he’d known, intellectually, that things would be a little different than they were back home. Not that _every_ person in Canada is super accepting of all kinds of people either, but people tend to be a little more open there. Or at least, so he’s heard. Reki’s face is lightly flushed, and he’s avoiding eye contact. And Langa may not be great at the whole romance thing, but that doesn’t mean he can’t tell when something is up with his friend.

“Reki.” Reki looks up at him through his lashes, still fiddling with his food. He hasn’t taken a bite since the conversation started. “You know, even if you don’t like girls—”

“I do like girls!”

“Then, even if you like boys, too—” Langa waits, and when there’s no denial from Reki, he continues, “That doesn’t change anything for me. Something like that won’t make me stop being your friend.”

“It wouldn’t change anything?”

Langa shakes his head. “Nothing at all.”

There’s a sadness in Reki’s voice when he says, “Oh.” After a beat, he visibly perks up, adding, “I mean, that’s great! Thanks, Langa. That’s really good to hear.” Then, “But you don’t…?” Langa tilts his head in question. “You don’t… like boys, too?”

Langa thinks about— really thinks about it. “I’ve never really liked anyone,” he admits. The memory of Adam’s lips so close to his flashes through his mind. “But… maybe I just never met the right person before.”

“Before?” Reki’s expression is so open. He looks so hopeful to have met someone more like himself. It gives Langa pause.

“Aren’t Cherry and Joe…?”

“Cherry and Joe?” Reki sits up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” Langa looks around, as if anyone is listening to their conversation. Are they not out? “I thought they were together? Or, maybe they used to be?”

Now Reki just looks confused. “I don’t think so? Joe is kind of known for all the women he picks up. And they’re always at each other’s throats.”

“Oh.” That’s a shock. Of course, he’s seen Joe with plenty of women before, but the way he and Cherry act around each other, he thought for sure there were feelings there.

“What makes you think that?”

“Just, how they act?” Langa answers with a shrug. “The way they look at each other? Guess I was wrong.”

“Hm.” Reki stares at his bagel for a little while, seemingly lost in thought, until he eventually takes an enormous bite. “Oh man, this hits the spot. Hurry up and finish yours! I want to go scout out some new spots.”

Langa laughs. “Don’t you already know all of the spots in this town?”

“There are plenty of spots I can’t get to alone, Langa. That’s where you come in!”

“This sounds like it’s going to be illegal.”

“Maybe, my friend. Maybe.”

They finish their food and head out to who-knows-where— Langa is just content to follow Reki around and skate. They bypass all of their usual spots, opting to head out to the other side of town where they rarely go because it’s not convenient to anything. The other side of town is where the rich people live, which means they never have any actual reason to go out there, either.

“Are you sure we should be out here?” Langa asks as they cruise through a residential neighborhood with some of the biggest houses Langa has ever seen. “Won’t they call the cops on us or something?”

“Maybe,” Reki says with a laugh. “But we’ll just have to outrun them!” He speeds up and pulls away from Langa, and Langa takes it for the challenge that it is.

It’s fun skating with Reki. He doesn’t have to think about anything or worry about anything. It’s easy, and lighthearted, and feels like when he and his dad would go snowboarding together: warm and comfortable.

But it doesn’t escape his notice that the thrill isn’t the same. With Reki, it’s fun— but with Adam, it’s _hot_. It gives him a high he hasn’t felt since the last time he won a competition, and even that’s not quite the same.

He kicks off harder and catches up to Reki easily. “Think there are any good hills around here?”

“I bet we can find one!”

They wind their way through one neighborhood and into another. There don’t seem to be a lot of good skate spots in this area, and Langa is starting to think maybe they’ve hit a dead end, until the road they’re on dips suddenly and they’re headed downhill on a serpentine path.

“Oh, shit,” Reki exclaims as they come up on a big curve. They’re going too fast to keep going, but if Reki hops off and lands wrong, he could hurt himself. Langa scans the area quickly, desperate for something they can use, and spots a low-hanging branch near the turn.

“Grab the branch!”

Reki looks back at him, uncomprehending. “What?!”

There’s no time to explain, so Langa cuts in front and ollies in time to reach the branch, which lets him change the angle of his body in mid-air so that he lands forward on the following straightaway. There’s enough space in front of him that he allows himself to look back to see if Reki is okay; he’s managed to grab hold of the branch, too, so Langa exhales and concentrates on getting the rest of the way down the hill.

Once he reaches the bottom, he has to stop and take in what he’s seeing. There’s a fence with an open gate, and behind the gate is an empty pool that’s basically _begging_ to be skated.

“Langa, what—” Reki goes zooming past him and nearly wipes out in a bush— _nearly_. He pulls out of it and stops before he manages to injure himself yet again. “What are you looking at?” He rolls to a stop beside Langa and peers inside the gate.

“No way!” Reki’s glee is obvious, and he doesn’t hesitate before he’s streaking past Langa and dropping into the pool without a second thought.

“Reki!”

“Come on, Langa! It’s an empty pool! What are you waiting for?”

“This isn’t our pool!”

“No,” Reki agrees, “but I don’t see anyone around to tell us otherwise, do you?”

It’s true. Langa looks around, but there’s no hint of activity nearby or in the building they’re standing behind.

With a shrug, Langa decides to join him. He’s gotten a lot better at dropping in — it’s _way_ different on a skateboard, which can fly out from under his feet — but it still gives him trouble sometimes. Luckily, he’s able to pull it off today and doesn’t have to worry about Reki accidentally running him over.

“Nice!” Reki says. “You’ve never skated a pool, have you?”

“No.” It’s constant movement, constantly changing his stance. It’s not like street skating or racing— very different from what he’s used to. “It’s fun, though.”

Reki laughs, and Langa laughs with him, until he launches himself out of the pool a little too enthusiastically and loses his footing on his board. The skateboard flies out from under him, and Langa has to try to land without hurting himself too badly. He’s not in the right position to land on his feet on level ground, and ends up landing on his knees and shins right in the slope of the pool. It smarts, and he curses himself for not buying those kneepads when he had the chance.

“Shit, are you okay?” Reki comes to a stop beside him, hands hovering over Langa like he’s not sure if he should touch him or not.

Langa stretches out his legs slowly, checking that nothing is broken or wrong. His jeans are torn at the knees, and he’s definitely going to have bruises tomorrow, but otherwise he feels okay. “I’m fine.” He takes Reki’s outstretched hand and lets Reki pull him to his feet. He’ll still be able to skate, no problem.

“Oh, where’s my—” His skateboard is standing at the edge of the pool, held upright by a tall, broad man in an expensive-looking blue suit. “—skateboard.”

The man looks down at them with a pleasant smile. “Looking for this?” His voice is familiar, but Langa can’t quite place it. “I see you’ve found my pool.”

Langa hears Reki mutter, “Fuck,” before he sees him climbing out.

“We’re very sorry, sir,” Reki says. “Langa, let’s go.”

“Wait a minute.” The man looks at Reki. “Go on ahead. I’d like to make sure your friend is alright.”

Reki shoots a panicked look at Langa, but Langa just shrugs. The man doesn’t seem threatening. Reki takes a few hesitant steps back, and at the man’s prompting, eventually turns and walks several paces down the road. Langa pulls himself out of the pool and accepts the skateboard back from the man.

Up close, Langa can see his eyes; they’re a striking red, so unusual they’re almost hypnotic.

Hypnotic, like—

“So good of you to visit, Langa-kun. But you could have called.”

“Ad—”

“Shindo Ainosuke,” Adam interrupts. He winks, and Langa nearly melts. Like this, with his hair slicked back and no mask obscuring his face, he’s incredibly handsome.

Langa shakes himself out of it, surprising himself with the thought. “Ainosuke,” he says, testing the way it feels. It feels shockingly intimate; he wasn’t sure he’d feel that way — he has no problem with everyone calling him Langa, after all — but knowing what it means to Adam, to Shindo Ainosuke, does make it feel like it means something.

Adam smiles. “I should have known you’d recognize me. You really are special, aren’t you? How reckless of me. I trust you will keep this between us.”

“Yes,” Langa agrees. He knows how important it is to some people to separate their S personas from their real lives.

“Excellent.” Adam holds out his hand, and Langa takes it. It feels different — better — this way, flesh to flesh. His hold is firm but gentle. He takes a step forward into Langa’s space and tilts his head down to look at Langa, and Langa is immediately met with the now-familiar scent of Adam’s cologne. “Have you decided what you want, yet?” He trails one finger up the length of Langa’s arm, barely grazing it, just the whisper of a touch that spikes Langa’s pulse.

Suddenly he can’t breathe. He looks up into Adam’s eyes — Ainosuke’s eyes — and all he can feel is the desire to _touch_.

“Did you know this was my pool?” Adam asks when no answer comes. “Because you didn’t have to come find me. You could have just called.”

“I didn’t know,” Langa says, swallowing down the rapid beating of his heart.

“Just a pleasant surprise?”

Langa doesn’t know what possess him to nod “yes,” but he knows it’s true; he is very pleased to see Adam here. He hasn’t been able to stop wishing he could see Adam again since the first time they met.

“I’m pleased to see you, too,” Adam says. “I hope to see you again soon when it can just be the two of us.”

“What about S?”

Adam grins a cheshire grin. “Of course. I’m looking forward to skating with you again most of all.”

“Langa?” Reki’s head pops back out from around the fence. Adam’s hand withdraws from Langa’s arm and into his jacket pocket, and Adam straightens his posture and takes a step back. “Everything okay?” Reki’s gaze bounces back and forth between the two of them, and Langa has the strange, uncomfortable hope that Reki didn’t see what position they were just in.

“It’s fine.”

“I was just returning his skateboard. This is my pool, you see,” Adam says to Reki. “But I’ll be filling it in soon, so don’t come back to try to skate in it again.”

Langa and Reki both nod; Langa doesn’t know if that’s true or not, but he’s okay with not coming back here. It feels like they got away with something. In a way, it’s riveting— it feels like Langa has connections that allow him to do things he normally wouldn’t be able to do. But it also feels a little dirty for the same reason.

“Langa. Let’s go.”

Langa nods again and makes to follow after Reki but is stopped once more by a gentle hand around his bicep.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” Adam advises. He brushes a piece of hair behind Langa’s ear. “Or I might lose interest.”

Langa’s stomach drops, and he doesn’t even get a chance to respond as Adam disappears back into the building that he and Reki previously thought was empty. He doesn’t waste any more time going out to find Reki.

“You okay?” Reki asks when Langa finally catches up.

“I’m fine,” he lies. There’s nothing _wrong_ with him, per se, but he definitely doesn’t feel _fine_. He feels decidedly different. “We should get going.”

“Yeah, man. Shindo is no joke. He’s a big deal around here. You definitely don’t want to get on his bad side.”

“I think we’re okay. I don’t think he’s going to get us in trouble.”

But Langa thinks about that for the rest of the day. It’s obvious that Reki hasn’t made the connection between Adam and Ainosuke, but Langa felt it was obvious when he got up close.

Though, behind Adam’s mask, it’s nearly impossible to see the color of his eyes. And nobody would expect a prominent politician to be involved in something like S. But putting all of that aside, Langa probably would have recognized him just from the feeling he gets every time the man is around. He’s enchanting. He makes it impossible for Langa to think of anything else.

Langa makes an excuse to go home once they get back to their side of town. Reki offers to come, but Langa tells him he’s just planning to take a long bath and relax for the rest of the day, and that Reki would be bored spending time with him.

“I wouldn’t be bored!” Reki says, but he doesn’t argue further when Langa says he just needs some time to rest.

He does wash off as soon as he gets home. His clothes are dusty, and his knees are sore, but mostly he just needs some time to _think_.

After he’s clean, he fills the tub and lets himself sink into it. It feels nice, just letting the water drift around him as he runs his fingers across the surface.

_Adam_.

It’s the same thing that’s been on the forefront of his mind since their race.

_What is it about Adam?_

He’s interesting, that’s for sure. And though everyone keeps trying to warn Langa away from him, Reki especially, Langa doesn’t feel unsafe around him. He feels unstable, yeah; he feels like he’s a little bit out of control. But does that have to be a bad thing? It’s like speeding down a mountain— he knows there’s always a risk of getting hurt, but the thrill is worth the risk. He’s always felt that way. Why change now?

The image of Adam touching him, breathing in his ear, invades Langa’s thoughts. He closes his eyes and lets himself fall into the memory. Or is it a fantasy? He thinks about Adam’s lips on his throat. He thinks about the way it felt when Adam wrapped his arm around Langa’s waist, and how it felt to be dipped and spun and _controlled_ by him. He thinks about that night in the factory, when he thought Adam was going to kiss him— He drags his own hand down his torso, up his thigh and back down again, toying with himself the way it feels like Adam is toying with him.

He feels himself stirring between his legs and gasps when he brushes his fingers across his plumping cock. He takes it a step farther, stroking himself to fully erect, and lets his legs fall to the sides.

_Adam’s voice in his ear. Adam’s fingers tracing patterns up and down his arm. Adam’s body pressed close. Adam, with his shirtsleeves rolled up, showing off strong, wiry arms. Those same arms both wrapped around Langa’s back, Adam’s lips on his throat, Adam’s breath in his mouth, Adam’s tongue against his teeth, Adam’s fist in his hair, Adam, Adam, Adam—_

Langa comes with a groan. He lies in the water as the aftershocks wash over him and thinks about what he just did.

He just touched himself to the image of Adam touching him.

With trembling hands, he reaches for the plug to drain the water from the tub. The water is completely drained by the time he stands and dries himself off.

He wraps his towel around his waist and goes to sit on his bed. The contact info Adam gave him is in the nightstand drawer.

He takes it out and turns it over in his hand. It’s a bit worn from the ride home and the several times he’s taken it out to look at since he got it.

This is his ticket to seeing Adam. It’s completely up to him. If he makes this call, he’s committing to something.

The thought doesn’t scare him at all.

With a nervous swallow, Langa programs the number into his phone and presses the call button. It rings several times before the line connects.

“Yes?”

“It’s me. It’s Langa.”

“You called.” There’s a smile in Adam’s voice that fills Langa with nervous jitters.

“I want to see you,” he blurts. He knows at least that much.

“Hm. And is that all you want?”

“I—” Langa takes a breath and tries again. “I want… I want to see you,” he says again.

Adam doesn’t ask again. He simply says, “I’ll send Tadashi with the car and drop you the pickup location. Meet him there at midnight. Make sure nobody sees you.”

“Got it.” He feels dirty again. He’s sneaking around, getting into cars with a stranger, going to meet a potentially unhinged, much older man. But it’s not a bad feeling at all. It feels _right_.

“Good boy. See you soon.” Adam disconnects the call. A few seconds later, his phone vibrates with the promised location. Langa sets a timer for himself, then flops back on the bed and lets the slip of paper fall from his hand.

This is a bad idea.

If he told _anybody_ what he’s planning on doing, they would all tell him that it’s a very, very bad idea.

But what those people don’t know is that Langa has never felt like this about another person before. He’s never felt the desire to ask someone out, or been unable to stop thinking about them, or wondered what it would be like to kiss someone. He’s tempted to say he’s never been attracted to anyone before, either, but that’s not completely true— he’s just never been attracted to a _girl_ before. Suddenly, he’s flooded with memories of people he felt inexplicably drawn to, people he wanted to keep looking at without realizing why, chalking it up to admiration or respect instead of seeing it for what it really was.

Now, though, he knows what he’s feeling. He is _attracted_ to Adam. Very much so. And he’s not bothered by or worried about this new discovery about himself; he knows his mom will be okay with it, and he knows Reki will be okay with it, and although he doesn’t have any concrete evidence of their relationship, he’s sure Cherry and Joe will be okay with it.

He just hopes he’s not completely misreading this situation.

His mom is fast asleep when Langa leaves, but it feels too risky to just walk out the front door, so he settles for slipping out of his bedroom window instead. He decides to bring his skateboard just in case — he’s not exactly sure what this meetup is about, after all — and if he needs to make a quick escape from the nosy cops that constantly patrol the area, skating is faster.

The car shows up exactly when and where he was told. Adam’s secretary, who Langa now knows is named Tadashi, gets out of the car and opens the door for him. It feels pretty awkward getting into the back of fancy car with a man whose name he only just learned, but this is his life now.

It’s very quiet on the drive to wherever they’re going. The look Tadashi gave him earlier was cool at best, and he’s certainly not making any effort to make conversation now.

“Where are we going?” Langa asks eventually, when they’ve been driving for a while.

“Where Ainosuke-sama asked me to take you,” comes the frosty response.

That’s probably the best answer he’s going to get, though he’s not sure what he did to get on this guy’s bad side. They’ve only spoken twice, including tonight, and both times he’s been less than warm. But maybe that’s just who he is.

Eventually, they pull up to a large, square building somewhere past the town limits. Tadashi walks him all the way inside, probably per Adam’s instructions, and says, “I will be waiting to take you home.”

Inside, Adam is already skating, dressed in his S attire once again. He’s on a large halfpipe practicing grab tricks, but when he sees Langa, he effortlessly dismounts at the top.

“Join me!”

Langa skates toward him and climbs up to the top to meet Adam. Immediately, Adam reaches out and takes one of Langa’s hands in his.

“It’s so nice to have you here, Snow. I hope you don’t mind?” He motions to their joined hands. Out of instinct, Langa clutches Adam’s hand tighter.

“I don’t mind.”

“Lovely.” Adam smiles and pulls him toward him. “I thought tonight would be a nice night for a personal skating lesson. Don’t you think?”

The suggestion gets his blood pumping. He’s definitely not going to turn down skating with a living legend. Someone as amazing as Adam doesn’t take interest in other skaters very often, and Langa knows he’s privileged to have his attention.

Adam’s lessons are nothing like Reki’s. He goes hard and fast, and Langa has to focus and make a serious effort to keep up. It’s tough, but he can feel himself getting better even after just a few hours.

“You’re so good, Snow,” Adam says. “Truly beautiful.”

Langa’s heart lurches. “Thank you,” he mutters. It’s heady, being called beautiful by someone like Adam. He hasn’t had much time to just _look_ at Adam yet, since they jumped right into the skating after Langa arrived. But now that they’re taking a break, he can just watch the bead of sweat drip down Adam’s gorgeous neck. His hair is still the wild mess he normally wears at S. His mask still hides his eyes, making it difficult to read him. But standing here calling Langa beautiful, Adam looks… human. Slightly less untouchable than usual.

“What is it?” Adam tilts his head to the side. Even when he’s sweaty, he’s still gorgeous.

“You look nice tonight,” Langa says. “I’m— I’m happy I called you.”

Adam’s brows shoot into his hairline, his expression slackening for a moment before he collects himself and clears his throat. “Get back to work. If you’re going to be worthy of me, you still have so much to learn.”

Langa can’t help the way the corners of his mouth lift into a smile. He puts his head down and gets back to work, but he knows he won’t forget that brief moment of vulnerability.

There is more to Adam than people can see. Langa knows that. He’s hiding behind a mask, both literally and figuratively, but there’s a man behind the mask that nobody knows yet.

Or maybe they do. He’ll have to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

The skin on the back of Kaoru’s neck prickles with the weight of Kojiro’s stare.

“What are you looking at, Gorilla?”

“Don’t call me Gorilla,” Kojiro scolds. A _smack_ on the back of Kaoru’s head knocks away his concentration, and he turns around to glare at his friend.

“What do you want? I’m busy.”

Kojiro tilts his head in that annoying, considering way of his, and asks, “Why do you always have to be busy _here_ , in my restaurant?”

Heat flares up in Kaoru’s cheeks and ears, and he curses himself for being affected by such an oaf. He turns back to his work and lets his hair fall in a curtain around him. “Your utter lack of customers makes for a very peaceful work environment.”

“Why you—”

The door to the restaurant opens, stopping Kojiro in his tracks.

“Joe. Cherry.”

Kaoru whips his head up at the sound of his S name. Luckily, there really aren’t any other customers right now, but these young people need to get used to using appropriate names away from S.

“Kojiro and Kaoru,” he corrects. “Use those names for us, please.”

“I don’t mind being called Joe,” Kojiro shrugs. “Plenty of people call me that. You’re the only one who calls me by my given name.”

That thought is nearly as embarrassing as being called out for always being around, but Kaoru doesn’t rise to the bait.

“What is it, Langa?”

Langa fidgets. He doesn’t normally.

“I was wondering,” Langa begins. He steels himself and meets Kaoru’s eyes with a determined intensity. “You knew Adam before S, didn’t you?”

Kaoru’s anxiety flares, as it always does when the topic of their former friend comes up. He exchanges a look with Kojiro. “Yes.”

“So, you know his true identity?”

He feels his pulse spike. “Do _you_?”

“I figured it out,” Langa says, as if it’s just that easy. “But Reki doesn’t know, right?”

“No,” Kojiro says. “Only us and Miya.” With another glance at Kaoru, he asks, “How did you figure it out?”

“I—” He hesitates. “Reki and I ran into him and I recognized him.”

“Recognized him? Adam takes great care to ensure he is completely unrecognizable. It’s why Reki and the others haven’t put it together. Even Shadow doesn’t know.”

“Really?”

“Really. Adam took a liking to Miya awhile back, as you know. He trained him privately for a while before he decided Miya was no longer worth the trouble, despite him being a Japanese national team hopeful.”

Langa’s gaze hardens. For some reason, that idea bothers Langa— though Kojiro, the ape that he is, doesn’t seem to notice.

“Kojiro, make Langa something to eat.”

“Hey, don’t volunteer my food! Langa eats like a dumpster.”

“I’ll pay for the food, you massive oaf!”

“You call me an oaf, but who feeds you, huh?!”

“I’ll have whatever you’d like to make, please,” Langa interjects. He takes the seat beside Kaoru and settles into his meal. That, at least, seems to appease Kojiro— he loves cooking for people, but running a restaurant sometimes makes him feel as though his creativity is being stifled.

It’s embarrassing that Kaoru knows that. He shoves down the uncomfortable familiarity until it’s buried deeply enough for him to forget about it.

Instead, he turns to Langa. “Why are you still asking about Adam? I thought you’d be done with him after your last beef.”

It’s then that Kaoru notices the delicate silver chain around Langa’s neck. He can’t definitely say that it’s new, but he’s certainly never seen Langa wear it before, nor has he seen him fiddle with it the way he does now.

“No reason.”

The hand fingering the chain drops to his chest and clutches at the fabric of his shirt. Langa’s gaze is far away, like the gesture is completely unconscious and he doesn’t realize how telling it is. Kaoru’s stomach drops.

“Langa…” Langa looks up at him with those earnest blue eyes. Kaoru can almost see the longing in them. “This is what Adam does,” he says. “He finds a skater to latch onto, and when he’s bored with them, he tosses them aside. He did it to Miya and a couple dozen others. He’ll do it to you, too.”

“Hey, Kaoru, knock it off,” Joe says. “You’ll break the boy’s heart.”

Langa’s expression is one of shock that quickly fades into embarrassment. Kaoru can relate— but that doesn’t mean he’ll allow Langa to make the same mistakes he made. Langa is young. He has time to find someone who will truly appreciate him.

“He’ll break it himself if he keeps chasing after Adam. Or worse, Adam will break it for him.”

To Kaoru’s surprise, Langa shakes his head. “I’m not worried about that,” he says. “We’re not… He’s just teaching me to skate. There’s nothing going on.”

That alone is enough to make Kaoru’s skin crawl. “Whether he’s just teaching you to skate, or there’s something more going on, you should stay away from him. You’ll get hurt.”

“I won’t.”

“Langa—”

“I _won’t_. And if I do, I won’t stop skating because of it.”

Kojiro places a plate of food in front of Langa, which he digs into immediately with surprising enthusiasm. “That may be what concerns Reki, but that’s not what concerns us.”

Kaoru scoffs. _Us._ As if they make decisions together. As if they are even remotely close to being an _us_.

“Don’t speak for me,” he snaps. The look Kojiro gives him barely masks his hurt, and Kaoru immediately feels a pang of guilt. He can’t help it sometimes; despite the way they bicker, he doesn’t actually _want_ to hurt Kojiro. It just comes out sometimes. It’s one of the many reasons why he’d rather keep his thoughts to himself than burden Kojiro with them.

“Fine. It’s what _I’m_ worried about,” Kojiro corrects. “You could get seriously injured if you spend time with him, Langa. Think about it. You wouldn’t want to worry your mother.”

At that, Langa finally seems to feel some kind of doubt. Kaoru can’t get over how uncomfortable he looks, like he’s just now realizing the severity of the situation.

“Does Reki know you’re seeing him?”

Langa shakes his head. “Reki told me to stay away from him.”

“Reki knows what he’s talking about.”

Kojiro takes the now-empty plate. “More?” Langa nods, and Kojiro shoots Kaoru a spiteful grin. “I’ll just keep it coming until you say stop then, hm?”

“Thank you very much,” Langa answers.

Kaoru cries for his wallet. Thankfully, he’s excellent at what he does and is in high demand— something that _someone_ would do well to remember.

When Kojiro disappears back into the kitchen, Kaoru turns to look at Langa directly. “Have you always had that necklace?” he asks. “It’s very nice.”

Langa’s face turns beet red. “No. It was a gift.”

“From Reki?” He knows it’s not from Reki; it’s far too expensive for a high schooler to afford.

Instead of answering, Langa looks at him with the most confused expression Kaoru has ever seen. “Why would you think Reki gave me this?” Oh, poor boy.

“Is it so strange to assume Reki would give you a gift?”

“I—” Something is going on in Langa’s head, but Kaoru can’t begin to guess what it is. “Do you mean…?” Kaoru waits. It’s not his place to say anything or make any assumptions about what Reki may or may not be feeling, but, well… The way Reki looks at Langa feels familiar. “I don’t… Reki is my friend,” Langa finally concludes. “I don’t want that to change.”

“Hm. So the necklace was a gift from someone else.”

Langa shoots a panicked expression at Kaoru that shocks him.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Langa says. “He asked me to keep his identity between the two of us.”

Even though Kaoru is used to living in a near-constant state of anxiety, the surge of discomfort that shoots through him at the confession has him feeling the beginnings of a headache.

“Kojiro!” he calls. Kojiro pops his head out of the kitchen with a bored raise of one brow. “Some ginger tea, please.”

“I don’t have ginger tea,” Kojiro answers.

“You have some at home. Go get it.”

Kojiro frowns that obstinate frown of his. “I can’t leave my place of business just to get you tea. Go get your own.”

“You’ll be back in less than five minutes,” Kaoru argues. “I know you have some.”

“I have customers, Kaoru!”

“Show me where they are, Kojiro!” He stands and braces himself against the counter as Kojiro comes out to argue the point.

“Someone could come in any time, see your ugly mug, and turn around and leave!”

Kaoru tries, really tries, not to let that comment have an effect on him.

“It’s better than them coming in and seeing your enormous gorilla body and getting frightened away.”

Kojiro’s eye twitches. Without another word, he turns on his heel back into the kitchen. Kaoru’s growing headache throbs.

“Um. Che— Kaoru?”

Kaoru takes stock of his position and forces himself to calm down. His heart is beating rapidly. The bracelet on his wrist lights up. “Please practice meditation until your pulse reaches acceptable levels,” Carla instructs. Kaoru forces himself to close his eyes and begins his breathing exercises. When he’s managed to calm himself, Carla chimes. “Pulse is within healthy resting range.”

“What is it, Langa?” he eventually asks. Langa is looking at him with concern that should be aimed inwardly at himself, rather than at Kaoru, who very much has his life and heart under control, _thank you very much_.

“You and Joe… Why do you argue so much?”

An exasperated laugh escapes Kaoru. “We didn’t always.”

“So why now?”

Kaoru knows why. He’s not sure if Kojiro does. “Sometimes things change,” he answers. “Sometimes they stay the same.”

Langa frowns. “But you clearly care for each other.”

“You should worry about your own affairs.”

Joe comes stomping out of the kitchen with a cup of tea on a saucer and places it in front of Kaoru as grumpily as possible without spilling it.

“Here. Ginger tea for Mr. Demanding.”

And that’s… Even with such a cranky delivery, it’s hard to deny that Kojiro _does_ care.

“I knew you had some.”

Kojiro rolls his eyes at the curt response. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Deep, deep in the bottom of his heart, Kaoru aches. _You are not his burden_ , his brain reminds him. _You are not what he needs. You are not what he wants_.

He slams the door shut on the voice and sips his tea.

His headache persists long after Langa leaves to meet Reki.


	4. Chapter 4

“I guess you were right,” Langa says out of the blue one day while they’re eating lunch on the roof. “Joe and Cherry aren’t together.”

“Told you!” Reki answers. He pokes around at his bento, trying to decide what to eat first. There are a lot of vegetables today, which aren’t his favorite, but Langa doesn’t like carrots, so he can’t pawn them off on him like he usually can.

“I think they’re just kidding themselves, though.”

Reki stops to look over at Langa. He’s not doing anything special, just eating his sandwich with a deadpan expression that gives nothing away. He’s strikingly pretty, though, and that’s a good enough reason to look. Reki catches himself thinking it and forces himself to look away before he gets caught.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw them at the restaurant a while ago, and something Cherry said made me think it’s all an act.”

“What did he say?”

Langa takes another huge bite of sandwich, chews and swallows, and pulls out a second sandwich before he answers. “He said they didn’t used to argue so much. I think something happened.”

“Hm.” Reki thinks it over. He hasn’t known Joe and Cherry very long. Before Langa moved here, he’d only seen them in passing at S. They’ve been at each other’s throats for as long as he can remember. “They used to be friends with Adam. Maybe he did something.”

It’s impossible to miss the way Langa perks up at the mention of Adam. He’s been doing that a lot lately. It’s also impossible not to feel at least a little bit insecure at the kind of reaction Langa has to hearing Adam’s name.

“What’s with you?” Reki asks, feeling grumpy. He picks at individual grains of rice with his chopsticks. “You get so sketchy when we talk about him.”

“I don’t get sketchy!” Langa glares at him over his sandwich.

“Yeah, like that.”

It shouldn’t be cute that he pouts, but it is.

“I just don’t get your obsession with that guy.”

“He’s an amazing skater. I like skating against him.”

“But you already did, and he almost killed you!”

“He did _not_ ,” Langa says, his tone petulant. “He wasn’t trying to hurt me.”

“Like hell!” Suddenly, Reki feels rage bubbling inside him. “He spun you around like a rag doll! You’re just a plaything to him. Do you understand that? You’re expendable. He’s going to seriously hurt you and then toss you aside like he did with so many other skaters before you— like he did with my friend!”

“Stop it!” Langa whirls on him with a ferocity he usually reserves for S. “I know when I’m in danger, Reki. You’re the one who told me I should stay away from him. Why do you care so much what I think of him? You shouldn’t worry so much about things that don’t concern you!”

“This _does_ concern me!”

“Why?!”

“Because I—!” He stops. He nearly blurted his feelings out, just like that. That’s not okay. “Because I care about you,” he finishes lamely, the wind blown out of his sails. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I wish people would stop saying that,” Langa mutters. He takes out his phone and taps something out, then puts it back in his pocket.

“Langa…”

“We’re going to be late for class.”

Even when he’s angry, Langa somehow manages to inhale his entire lunch. There’s not a crumb in sight as he packs his things away and rises to dust himself off.

“Langa, wait!” Langa stops to look back at Reki. “It’s just… You know how much I hate that guy. I don’t get how you could like him.” The silence is telling. “It’s been a long time since you skated together. Why do you still think about him?”

With guilt in his eyes, Langa looks away. “As a skater, you should know the answer to that.”

“He’s a bad person, Langa. You promised you would stay away.”

Langa’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t answer.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair at all that someone like _that_ would gain Langa’s attention. Langa is too good for that creep. He’ll get chewed up and spit out.

The thought infuriates and hurts at the same time.

“Reki,” Langa sighs as they make their way back to class, “you don’t need to worry about me. I’m happy.”

Despite that, Reki will still worry. He’s seen first-hand what Adam can do to people. He’s not ready to see Langa suffer the same fate. Still, he’ll back off if that’s what Langa wants; a true friend respects his friend’s boundaries and trusts him to make his own decisions. Reki trusts Langa. That’s his duty as a friend.

His gaze drifts unconsciously toward Langa all throughout the rest of the afternoon. Normally he wouldn’t look so openly, but today he lets himself look just a little; he rarely gets the chance, especially lately, with Langa spending so much time alone.

The afternoon light hits him just right, gleaming off his hair and the exposed line of his neck where he’s bent over to take notes. Langa shifts slightly in his seat, and the light bounces off of something shiny there.

“Mr. Kyan,” the teacher calls. “Care to share with the class what’s so interesting about Mr. Hasegawa?”

Reki’s face immediately heats up, and he can see with a glance that Langa’s ears are bright red, too, but he doesn’t look over at Reki.

“Nothing, sir! I’m sorry.”

“Good. Then pay attention.”

Reki nods and forces himself to pay attention for as long as he can stand it, but eventually he finds himself staring at Langa’s necklace again. He squints. Langa doesn’t normally wear jewelry.

A sharp pain right between the shoulder blades jolts him out of it.

“Dude, pay attention! Or at least pretend!”

Reki smiles sheepishly at the person in the seat behind him and huddles over his notebook instead of staring at Langa any longer. He doesn’t have to pay attention, but he _does_ have to stop interrupting class. He can think about Langa’s neck later.

____________________

Reki chews the eraser-end of his pencil while his thoughts drift. His jittering leg bounces his textbook on his lap, making it impossible to read.

“ _Reki!_ ” Langa’s exasperation is nearly palpable, and Reki flinches. “I’m not going to help you with your homework if you don’t pay attention. What’s with you today? You were all spaced out in class, too.”

“Uh— nothing! Just daydreaming. Sorry.”

“About what?”

“…Nothing, really.” It’s kind of a lie, but it’s better than telling Langa he’s been daydreaming about getting better at skating because it feels like he’s being left behind lately. It’s better than telling Langa that he can’t stop thinking about him, and the fact that Langa only seems to have eyes for Adam drives him crazier than he can explain.

“Then _pay attention_ ,” Langa scolds. “I swear, sometimes I don’t know what’s going on in your head.”

_Lately it feels like you don’t even want to know_ , Reki thinks. He buckles down on the lesson and tries to be grateful instead of resentful.

Langa’s phone buzzes on the table. Reki doesn’t look _on purpose_ — it’s just a reflex! — but it doesn’t say anything, anyway. All Reki can see is that it’s a notification from LINE, which could be anyone. The message preview is private, and the contact name is just a question mark. Who does Langa have saved as a question mark?

Reki snaps his gaze back to his notebook when Langa reaches for his phone. He picks it up and opens the message, but his expression doesn’t give anything away. He may be blushing, but he may just be warm; Reki can’t tell which one it is. Langa puts the phone away without responding.

“Do I need to go home?” Reki asks, then winces. That was not smooth.

“Hm?” Langa looks up from his homework. “No, not yet.”

“Oh. Good.” After a long stretch of silence, Reki can’t take it anymore. “Where are you going all the time, anyway?”

That finally gets Langa to put down his pencil and give Reki his full attention. It’s daunting now that he has it. Langa can be so single-minded.

“Why do you think I’m always going somewhere?”

“Well you are, aren’t you? You’re always mysteriously busy at night, except on S nights. You’re spacing out all the time lately. It’s hard to make plans with you, man.”

“Reki, I see you every day. We skate together every day. What are you talking about?”

Reki squirms. “You know, just. I mean, we never just _hang_ anymore. You don’t come over for dinner anymore, and we haven’t stayed over at each other’s houses in weeks. My sisters keep asking about you.”

“Really?” Langa gives him that curious puppy look that he gets sometimes, and Reki’s heart nearly melts.

“Well, yeah. They like you. They think you’re cute.” He shoots Langa a charming smile that he hopes hides the way his heart flutters at telling Langa out loud that he’s cute.

“I like them, too,” Langa says. “Sorry. I’ll come over soon.”

“Tonight?”

Langa’s expression goes guilty again. “I… can’t.”

Something inside Reki breaks. “Why?”

“I have… private lessons.”

“Private lessons. Late at night.”

“It’s the only time we can meet.”

“Who?”

“Reki, please… Don’t be mad.”

Everything in Reki’s peripherals goes red. This can’t be happening. There’s no way Langa would break a promise like that. He _knows_ what this means to Reki. He knows it’s _important_. Reki is supposed to be able to trust him!

With all of the self-control he can muster, he grits out, “How?”

Langa looks concerned and confused, which only serves to piss Reki off even more. “How what?”

“ _How are you meeting him, Langa?_ In the dead of night? Nobody else knows where you are? Nobody around to protect you?”

“I don’t need _protecting!_ ” The outburst shocks Reki but doesn’t take away the hurt and anger.

“Obviously you do! You don’t listen to anybody! You promised me you would stay away from him, but you’ve been lying to me for weeks! Maybe months! How long has this been going on? Huh? Are we even _friends_ , Langa?!”

As soon as he says it, he wishes he could take it back. All of the anger in the world isn’t worth the broken look Langa gives him.

“You _made_ me promise, Reki. I never wanted to stay away. Why don’t you see that? Don’t you understand how amazing it is to skate with someone like Adam?”

“ _Don’t_ say his name!”

“I don’t _belong_ to you, Reki!”

The world goes silent. The air around them is crackling with tension. Langa no longer looks guilty or concerned or confused— he looks _pissed_.

The door to Langa’s bedroom opens to reveal his mom on the other side. “Langa? Is everything okay? I heard yelling.”

“It’s fine.”

“I was just leaving,” Reki says, snatching up his books and shoving them into his bag. If he stays a second longer, he’s afraid he might cry, and he is _not_ going to do that in front of Langa. Not after this.

“Reki? Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he says. “Thank you for having me.” He pushes past Langa’s mom more rudely than he should and feels extra guilty for it.

“Reki!” Langa calls. “Hey!”

Reki keeps moving, not interested in hearing what Langa has to say. If he wants to break a promise, fine. If he wants to take secret skating lessons late at night with the person Reki hates most in the world, fine. If he’s not interested in Reki because he can’t take his eyes off of that flamboyant matador, _fine_. There are plenty of girls in this town that Reki could meet. He has other friends. He doesn’t need Langa.

As he makes his way through the house and out the door, he hears the fading conversation between Langa and his mother.

“What was that about? Where is Reki going?”

“It’s nothing. Just a fight.”

“About what?”

“ _Nothing_. Why can’t anybody leave me alone?!”

“Langa, where are you— don’t turn your back on me! Langa!”

That’s the last thing Reki hears before the door closes behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

The steady vibration in his pocket is irksome, but less so than this unending meeting he’s been forced to sit through for the past three hours. It’s late, and Adam itches to get out of his restrictive clothes. A cigarette would be absolutely _divine_.

A glance at his watch shows that it’s already after nine. He barely holds himself back from rolling his eyes and huffing a decidedly unprofessional sigh.

“So we maintain the same story as always,” one of the busybodies says.

“Yes, that seems to be the proper course of action.”

“We will hold until we’re sure the media no longer poses a viable threat to the Diet or the Shindo name.”

“Very good,” Adam says, rising to his feet. “How lucky I am to have such practiced and thoroughly involved roll models.”

“Ainosuke, I don’t believe we’ve finished yet.”

Adam cants his head to the side and delivers his most charming smile. “Is there more to discuss? If I keep you much later, I’m afraid you won’t get as much beauty sleep as you deserve.”

The three woman dissolve into a fit of old woman giggles.

Disgusting.

“It’s been a pleasure, as always,” he says, schmoozing through the tedious, insufferable interactions the way he always does. It’s so pathetic how he has so many people wrapped around his finger. They all lack spine.

He bows to the table and excuses himself before his mask cracks. He’s long past the threshold for how much insipid bullshit he can take in one day.

Outside, thunder crashes in the distance. The phone in his pocket continues to buzz in intervals. He’s ready to crack the thing in half; if it’s another reporter who got ahold of his personal number, maybe he will. The click-clack of his shoes on marble gives way to soft steps on carpet as he makes his way to his private rooms.

By the time he gets there and pulls the phone out of his pocket, he’s ready to put it through a wall— until he sees who’s calling.

For a brief moment, all of the day’s stress and anger melt away, replaced with the surprise of seeing his phone light up with a phone call from the one person on this god-forsaken planet who doesn’t fill Adam with rage. He sits on his velvet chaise and loosens his tie as he accepts the call.

“Adam,” Langa says before Adam even has a chance to answer. He’s panting like he’s out of breath. The sound in Adam’s ear makes him feel warm all over.

“What is it? Are you canceling our date, Langa-kun?”

“I need somewhere to stay.”

Adam’s pulse quickens, but he fights down the initial protective response. There’s nothing he can do for the kid.

“I’m sure Joe or Cherry Blossom can take you in. Or perhaps that red-headed boy you waste your time with.”

“Reki and I got into a fight,” Langa says. The sound of a car passing by precedes a loud huff from Langa.

“Why should I care about that?”

“We got into a fight over you.”

The response gives Adam pause. “Over me, hm? Well, how predictable. Of course someone like that would be upset by how easily you’ve surpassed him.”

Adam walks to the window to watch the storm. A bolt of lightning illuminates the sky and the whole city as far as the eye can see, just for a brief moment. The resulting thunder crackles the phone’s reception.

After a few seconds of silence in which Langa continues to huff as he walks in the rain, Langa sighs heavily. “I don’t want to go to Joe or Cherry,” he says quietly. “I want to see you. Everybody keeps telling me to stay away from you, but I don’t want to. I want to be near you. Please.”

The conviction in Langa’s words is shocking.

Adam spends all of his time around horrible, thin-skinned, weak-willed sycophants who make bowing to authority their full-time careers. It’s sickening.

But Langa…

Langa goes after what he wants. He has shown that again and again, taking on opponents he has no business facing and winning, taking on Adam himself and very much holding his own, even seeking Adam out now, in his time of need, when it goes against what everyone in his life has been telling him.

Yes. Langa goes after what he wants. Adam needs that. He _craves_ it.

“I’ll send the car.” He nearly hangs up, but Langa’s “Wait!” catches him in time. “What is it?”

“I’m— Could you please send a towel? My skateboard is soaked.”

Adam smiles to himself. Silly boy, drenched in rainwater and only concerned about his skateboard. Incredible.

“Of course. Send me your location.” He hangs up the phone and pulls the tie from around his neck. He shrugs off his suit jacket and starts on the buttons of his shirt. “Tadashi!” he calls. If he has to call again, Tadashi will eat out of a bowl on the floor tonight. He’s almost disappointed when he hears the door to the salon open, followed by his bedroom door.

“Sir?”

“You’re to pick up Langa and bring him here.”

As always, the dog’s expression is completely blank. “Bring him… here, sir?”

The implicit question is an annoyance. “Do you have a problem with that, Tadashi?”

“No, Ainosuke-sama.”

“Of course you don’t. You never do.” He slides the dress shirt off of his shoulders. He knows Tadashi is watching. But Tadashi will never have him. _Ever_. Adam stands to unbutton his pants and drags them down his long legs, showing off for someone who will never deserve to see it. The thong he’s wearing today hides nothing.

“Tadashi, what do you think of this?” He turns to show off his muscular behind. The fabric is a lacy, vibrant red, almost too ostentatious, as if there’s such a thing.

Tadashi doesn’t bother to answer. It’s infuriating.

“No opinions, dog?” He turns so that his considerable bulge is visible. He lifts one leg onto the bed, putting himself fully on display.

Tadashi swallows but otherwise displays an affectation of disinterest.

It’s fun to torture those who truly deserve it.

“No, Ainosuke-sama.”

Adam feels the same familiar rage bubble inside him. He glares. _Useless mutt_.

“Tell me I look nice, Tadashi.”

“You look nice, sir.”

“Again.”

“You are the picture of beauty.”

He continues to glare. Tadashi continues to look impassively. His eyes are glazed over. Even a glance at his pants shows that he’s utterly unaffected.

“I’m coming with you,” Adam declares, sick and tired of everyone in his life and desperate to be anything but alone.

“Yes, sir. I will pull the car around.”

At Adam’s nod, Tadashi turns and goes.

Adam allows himself a few indulgent moments to admire himself. He’s big now. Strong. He is a true man— a model of perfection. He has lived up to the Shindo family name.

His aunts have been searching for a woman for him to marry, which only deepens his rage. The mere idea of pledging his life and eternal love to someone just for the sake of propriety sickens him to his very core. But of course, that kind of thinking is to be expected from the unimpassioned members of this loveless bloodline.

How long has it been since he’s felt true love?

His phone blinking on the bedspread catches his attention, and he’s reminded of Langa waiting in the middle of a thunderstorm for him. He reaches for his mask before he reconsiders: Does he need to do this tonight? They won’t be skating. They’ll be coming back here. Perhaps it’s better to remain as Ainosuke. It would arouse less suspicion if someone were to see him entering or exiting. It means he’ll have to redress in _presentable_ attire again, but at least he can change when he gets back.

He makes quick work of it and takes the back elevator down into the kitchens. The chefs have gone for the night, so nobody will be there to see him exit out the back, where Tadashi will have the car pulled up at the end of the path.

Tadashi meets him at the door with an umbrella and walks him out, helping him into the backseat before taking his place behind the wheel. Adam sends the coordinates to Tadashi’s phone, and then they’re on their way.

“No one is to enter my rooms while Langa is with us,” he tells Tadashi while they drive. “You will disconnect the cameras when we arrive, and you will not reconnect them until Langa is in my bedroom. Nobody will question the missing footage thanks to the storm tonight. If they do, it was a temporary power outage.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If Langa chooses to leave in the morning, you will be responsible for transporting him out. He cannot be seen. I’m sure you understand the severity of this instruction.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If anyone were to see you—”

“I understand, sir,” Tadashi interrupts, tone more biting than Adam is used to hearing it. “It will be like he was never here at all. You have my word.”

Adam scoffs. “For what that’s worth.”

The car pulls up to a curb a while later, and a wet Langa enters the backseat, shivering.

“Tadashi, a towel.”

Tadashi hands two large bath sheets back to them. Langa makes himself comfortable.

Langa is soaked down to his skin. He looks cold, and uncomfortable, and miserable, but when he meets Adam’s eyes, there’s the same fierceness there that he sees when Langa skates.

“Thank you for picking me up.”

Adam cuts his eyes toward the front of the car in time to see Tadashi’s grip throttle the steering wheel. He says nothing. This beige behavior is tiresome.

“My pleasure, Langa-kun.” Once Langa has apparently finished drying himself and his skateboard the best he can and wrapped one of the towels around his shoulders like a blanket, he finally seems to notice Adam’s appearance.

“You’re not in your matador suit.”

Irrationally, infuriatingly, something vulnerable arises at the observation. Is that what Langa wants? The persona of ADAM, nothing more?

Of course it is.

For a moment, he’s not even sure what to say, and he hates himself more for it.

“You look nice,” Langa says. It’s so quiet, Adam thinks he may have imagined it, until he sees Langa looking at him with wide, open eyes; he looks at ease here, even drenched and unhappy.

Adam doesn’t even realize he’s said “thank you” until Langa smiles, and _oh_ , that’s nothing like the last smile Adam saw stretched across that gorgeous face.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to skate tonight,” Langa continues, as if his mere presence doesn’t turn Adam’s world on its head. He lifts his board dejectedly. “I think it’s too waterlogged.” He looks so put-out. Adam reaches for him, the insane urge to comfort temporarily taking over, until he catches himself and pulls back with a frown.

“It’s irresponsible to treat your equipment so poorly.”

“I know. I just… couldn’t stay where I was any longer.”

Slowly, like an admission, Adam nods.

____________________

Back in his bedroom with strict orders to Tadashi to make sure that Langa is fed and comfortable, Adam sits.

There are lines on his hands that didn’t used to be there— a sign of aging that he’s not ready to face. He still feels young. He still _is_ young.

He says nothing, just watches Langa meander around the space and familiarize himself with this very private part of Adam’s life. He doesn’t bring people here. He doesn’t allow _anyone_ to come in here. Even the help, Tadashi aside, do not enter his private rooms unless explicitly told. And even Tadashi is pushing his luck every time he enters.

Why he still lets that mangy stray hang around, Adam will never know. Better to have him in hand than to let him go off and expose all of Adam’s secrets, he supposes.

“Oh— I’m sorry, I got your carpet wet!”

Langa’s distressed exclamation pulls Adam from his thoughts. “It’s fine,” he answers absentmindedly. “It’s time I get it replaced, anyway. This room is so uninspired.”

Langa tilts his head to the side, so free with his expressions, as always. “Isn’t this your room?” He blushes slightly after the fact. Curious.

“So it is.”

He doesn’t say that it feels more like a prison than a place of safety. It’s where he goes for the only amount of solitude he’s allowed, but even so, the house is filled with dozens of people at all times. Is he ever truly free from prying eyes?

Langa doesn’t seem to have anything else to say about the matter, but he stands where he is, determined not to move around now that he’s realized he’s been tracking rainwater everywhere. He’s considerate and polite, just like Adam; only he doesn’t seem weighed down by the responsibility of it. He just seems cold.

Adam sighs. “I’ll find you something to wear, if you don’t mind wearing my clothes.”

Langa only blushes darker. “I don’t mind. Thank you.”

There’s a drawer filled with comfortable clothes that Adam can only wear in private. It’s right above the drawer that contains his more indulgent undergarments, which nobody else but Tadashi has ever seen. He withdraws a soft pair of lounge pants first; they’ll be too large on Langa, but he can pull them tight with the drawstring. There’s not much in the way of shirts, considering he doesn’t normally wear one when he’s alone, but there’s one buried at the bottom of his drawer that would work.

The material is soft and faded after years of wear and years more of sitting in a drawer. Adam hasn’t looked at it since he came back from America. It’s a miracle that he still has it at all.

He refuses to think about it as he hands the shirt and pants to Langa and turns his back to let him change. The sounds of Langa removing his sopping clothes are replaced by the rustling of fresh, dry ones. When he’s finished, Langa approaches him with his pile of wet clothes wrapped in the towel he was using.

It’s more difficult than he expected to see Langa wearing that shirt. It’s confusing; it reminds him too much of a time many, many years ago.

“Tadashi will take those when he brings your food.”

“Okay.” Langa’s eyes move to the bed and snap back again, but he doesn’t move. Adam waits. “Aren’t you uncomfortable, too?” One slim hand reaches out and touches the cuff of his shirt. “This fabric is so stiff.” It’s said in such a put-upon tone, like Langa is offended on behalf of Adam, that Adam can’t help but laugh.

“I’m used to it.”

“Aren’t you going to change?”

And hell if that doesn’t sound like the best thing right now. “I don’t want to be rude.”

The expression on Langa’s face would be comical if it wasn’t so utterly charming. He looks so _offended_. “What’s rude about it? This is your house. It’s your room. You deserve to be comfortable. I don’t care what you wear.”

Adam feels his eyebrows rise. He nods, considering, and accepts the sentiment at face value. “Alright.” He makes quick work of it this time. It’s not until he’s undressed to his underwear that he remembers the thong he’s wearing. His eyes act of their own accord when they seek out Langa, who had immediately turned away when Adam began undressing. He’s determinedly looking away, though his profile is visible, showing off the beautiful, vibrant blush staining his cheeks.

And Adam… Would he really be who he is if he missed the opportunity to tease him a little?

“What do you think?” he asks, snapping the band of his thong against his hip. “It’s new.”

Langa’s answering swallow is audible. He turns his head toward Adam and gasps when he sees Adam’s state of undress. “You—” His eyes rake over Adam’s body. Adam feels it like a caress. The feeling stirs deep in his loins. “It’s— I—” It’s as if Langa can’t decide where to look. His face grows steadily redder the longer he looks.

With every beat of his heart, Adam feels the blood pumping through his veins. “So?” he prompts. “If you don’t answer, I’ll think you don’t like it.”

Langa’s eyes snap back to Adam’s. “Don’t you already know the answer to that?”

Truthfully, he doesn’t. All he knows is that Langa is affected, which, while it’s more than he can say for Tadashi, doesn’t tell him at all how Langa really feels.

Something in Langa’s expression changes; he turns to fully face Adam and takes a step forward. “You look good.” It’s breathless— vulnerable. “I’ve never… seen anyone like this. I’ve never known anyone like you.”

Time seems to slow with Langa’s confession. Adam is thrown back to that night at S when they skated together for the first time. He remembers the way Langa looked flying high above, like an angel sent down from Heaven just for him. His fingers itch to touch.

“You’re wearing your gift,” he murmurs when he catches sight of the silver chain around Langa’s neck. He lifts a hand to Langa’s neck and slips a finger beneath the necklace. If he were to pull, would the chain break, or would it drag Langa with it like a collar on a dog?

Langa nods. “I always do. You haven’t noticed?”

How many times have they met since that first night? How many times has it escaped his notice? His heart thuds heavily in his chest. He gave the gift because he wanted to, but to know it’s truly appreciated is… unexpected.

“Ada— Ainosuke?”

“You always wear it?”

“Yes. Is that okay?”

Adam sits at the edge of his bed. He’s lightheaded.

Langa hovers. It should be irritating; people always hover. Everyone hovers around him _constantly_ , making sure he lives up to his duties, doesn’t fuck anything up, doesn’t ruin the family name, doesn’t stick a single goddamned toe out of line, _ever_.

But it isn’t irritating. Langa hovers because he cares. _About Adam_.

Not about his reputation, or his money, or his skating.

Just him. As a person.

“I apologize,” Adam murmurs. It’s been a long time since he’s felt ashamed of himself, but sitting here now, he regrets so much about this evening already. “It was wrong of me to behave the way I did. I’ll get dressed.”

He’s stopped by Langa’s gentle grip on his wrist. Langa is sitting next to him on the bed now.

“It’s fine,” Langa says, the words too mild for the sternness with which he says them. “I’m not upset.” He swallows. It takes a few moments for more words to come, but when they do, they are spoken with conviction.

“I wasn’t sure what I felt, before. But I understand now. You’re amazing. I want to skate with you as much as I can— not just because you teach me, but because it’s _fun_. Being with you makes me feel alive. And… I like you.” He loosens his grip. Adam doesn’t pull away. “I know I’m probably too young for you, but… I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” The way he looks at Adam now, like he’s the center of the universe, unlocks something primal and _wanting_. “I’ve never felt attraction like this.”

He swallows, his eyes tracing down Adam’s body again.

“I knew you were different from the moment we first skated together,” Langa says. “And I don’t care that I’m young. I just want you.”

It’s so _bold_. That _something_ from before is building, spreading through him like it’s the very blood in his veins.

“It could never work,” Adam says. “You’re a child. I’m always in the public eye.” It doesn’t matter. Adam has been hiding who he is for half his life.

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

“Nobody could ever know.”

Langa scoots closer, imploring with his expressive eyes. “I don’t care. This isn’t about anyone else.” Adam can’t resist the pull he feels toward the boy.

“If word were to get out that Shindo Ainosuke is having a tryst with a young, foreign high school boy—” Langa’s hand is on Adam’s thigh. His breath hitches. “If anyone were to catch us—”

“Please,” Langa whispers, so close Adam can taste it. “I just want to know what it’s like.”

“To be with an older man?”

“To be with anyone. With someone I admire.” Big, bright eyes bore into Adam’s. “Someone I trust.”

His resolve shatters.

In one fluid motion, he pulls Langa astride his lap. Langa comes willingly, wasting no time as he cradles Adam’s face in both hands and leans down to take Adam’s first real kiss in years.

It’s as if everything clicks into place after that, and it’s no longer time to think and plan and hurt. Adam has so much love to give and now, even if only for a moment, an outlet for it.

Slim hands slide into Adam's hair as Langa sinks into the kiss, and Adam feels wild. His own hands gripping Langa’s waist slide down to his hips and then under the borrowed shirt. Langa shivers. His skin is silky smooth, still young and taut, stretched over hidden muscle that Adam can feel now as he runs his hands over Langa’s chest and back. He’s strong and athletic in a way that isn’t immediately obvious, but given the way he skates, is to be expected. He feels exquisite under Adam’s hands; he can’t stop himself from touching every inch he can get.

“Ainosuke,” Langa says, and for some reason, hearing Langa call him that here and now, in the context of what they’re doing, makes him sick. It reminds him too much of the harpies who only know how to show love through punishment, of his loyal dog who never stands up for himself or anyone else, of his son-of-a-bitch father—

“Don’t call me that,” he growls.

“Adam,” Langa tries again, quieter this time. “Ai.”

And that— _Ai_. That’s something nobody calls him. Not anymore. It’s beautiful in its simplicity.

“Yes.”

Their next kiss is slower, feels heavier. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” Langa confesses. “I don’t know how any of this works, but I like you.”

Adam wraps his arms tightly around Langa and pulls them flush together. He drags one hand up Langa’s back, letting it linger over the soft fabric of the old shirt before burying it in Langa’s hair and pulling him back down into another heated kiss.

He doesn’t want to talk anymore. He just wants to feel this.

“Please, Ai,” Langa breathes between kisses, “Teach me.”

Adam nods. In one fluid motion, he lifts Langa and turns them both so that he can lay Langa on the bed below him. Like this, with his hair splayed out all over the pillow, looking up at Adam with so much trust and openness, he’s the most beautiful thing Adam has ever seen. His heart thuds with affection; it’s almost painful in its unfamiliarity.

Langa’s borrowed shirt rides up to show off his taut stomach. Adam presses another kiss to Langa’s lips before moving down to lavish his stomach with kisses instead, working his fingers under the waistband of the sweatpants Langa is wearing. Catching on quickly, Langa lifts his hips and allows Adam to pull them down and off. He’s exposed now; his half-hard cock grows as Adam leans down to take it in his mouth, and Langa gasps. He sucks Langa until he’s fully erect and then pulls off. He trails kisses up and down the length of Langa’s cock and then lower, until he reaches Langa’s hole.

Although Langa isn’t loud, he’s very vocal; he gasps and moans and vocalizes every pleasure. It encourages Adam to be as forward as he wants, because he knows Langa likes it. He hooks his arms under Langa’s knees and brings them to rest over his shoulders to get a better angle. The first lick over Langa’s hole has him bucking away instinctively, but he mutters a small, “ _Oh_ ,” and the next time Adam does it, he feels the way Langa forces himself to relax. He squirms and pants as Adam eats him out and loosens him up. At some point, Langa’s fingers find their way back into Adam’s hair, and when his moans increase in volume, his grip tightens and tugs.

Adam works a finger inside, and then a second, teasing Langa’s prostate with every stroke until Langa is shaking apart with punched-out moans and keening whines. “ _Ai_.” He comes with Adam’s name on his breath and his fingers in Adam’s hair.

Slowly, his grip loosens, and Adam climbs back up to hover overtop him and cover his neck and jaw and any other place he can reach with love until Langa opens his eyes again. When he does, he looks ravaged. His cheeks are flushed a beautiful shade of pink. And when he looks up into Adam’s eyes, Adam feels a sense of _rightness_ flow through him that he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager first discovering who he was.

They stay like that for a few moments, just soaking each other in. Langa uses the time to explore Adam’s body— his chest, his back, and lower to his exposed behind. His touch is soft and reverent. It’s distractingly gentle, and the jumble of emotions Adam feels tangle together inside him, too difficult to sort out just yet.

Langa runs a finger along the line of Adam’s thong, which can barely contain his erection. “Do you like it?” Adam asks again. Something small and insecure inside him tells him that someone like Langa could never truly want someone like him. Langa is _good_. And Adam isn’t.

“Yes,” Langa breathes. “It drives me crazy. But…” He looks off to the side, suddenly shy.

“But?”

“I think… You should take it off.” Langa’s eyes meet Adam’s once more. “I can go farther.”

No further prompting necessary, Adam makes a show of removing the thong. He helps Langa out of his shirt next, and then they’re both completely naked and exposed.

“I thought about you once,” Langa admits. “I didn’t know what I was feeling until it happened.”

Adam’s head spins. Is Langa saying what it sounds like he’s saying?

“What did you think about?”

“Your hands on me. Your mouth on me.” He whimpers when Adam leans down and begins to suck a bruise into the beautiful, pale skin of Langa’s neck. “Yeah, like that.” Adam can’t help it— it’s too tempting, too smooth and elegant. And the way Langa reacts is like a drug. “Kiss me. Please, please kiss me.”

Langa’s wish is Adam’s command.

They move together as they kiss. The feeling of skin against skin is intoxicating. It builds his arousal until he can’t think straight. He can’t get enough. Langa seems to feel the same, the way he tugs Adam closer, wraps his legs around him, pulls at him until the only way to get closer is to get all the way inside—

“I want you,” Adam purrs.

Right now, Langa is the only thing on his mind. There is no Tadashi waiting outside. There’s no work, no politics, no meddling family, no heartbreak. There is only this moment between him and the one person on this planet who wants him exactly the way he is.

“I want to be inside you, Langa.”

Langa nods his head vigorously. “ _Please_.”

The bottle of lube Adam keeps under one of his many pillows is within easy reach. He snaps the cap open and pours a generous amount over his fingers. He reaches between their bodies and coats Langa’s hole inside and out, swallowing his gasps and moans as he does so.

“What smells like strawberries?” Langa asks between wrecked sounds.

“The lubricant.” Adam slicks himself up as well and lines himself up with Langa’s waiting hole. He pushes inside, slow and steady, kissing up and down Langa’s neck and adding more marks while Langa adjusts, until he’s buried to the hilt.

It feels more overwhelming than Adam expected. He’s hit by another tidal wave of emotions as he gazes down at the boy beneath him— the boy who stood up to him, raced against him, learned from him, pursued him, and came to him in his time of need. This beautiful, radiant boy who had no reason to fall for a person like Adam, but did it anyway.

“You really are my Eve,” Adam whispers. His voice catches on the last word, but by the way Langa’s gaze softens impossibly, he understands.

“You are my Adam.”

They meet in the middle for an impassioned kiss, and from there the affection flows freely between them. The pace starts off slow while Langa gets used to the sensation of Adam inside him and picks up with every hitch of Langa’s breath, every sighed “Ai” and soft press of lips. Langa’s hands clutch at Adam’s shoulders, trail down his back, until they find Adam’s ass and squeeze. He moves beneath Adam so naturally, thrusting his hips in time with Adam’s, pulling him in harder with his hands on Adam’s ass. Adam follows his lead. Langa’s enthusiasm eggs him on; the pace builds to something hard and fast, something fueled by passion and desire.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips across Langa’s jaw, then his cheekbones, dropping kisses as he goes, and stops when he reaches Langa’s ear. He wonders if Langa is like him in this, too. He takes Langa’s earlobe between his teeth and gently nibbles at the sensitive skin there; his answer comes in the form of Langa arching off the bed. Langa’s breath hitches as he comes for the second time in hot spurts between them. He’s the most beautiful thing Adam has ever seen. It only takes a few more thrusts to push Adam over the edge, too; and then he’s spilling himself inside Langa in waves of pleasure that flow through him for several long seconds.

He doesn’t even realized he’s collapsed on top of Langa until he feels those long fingers carding through his hair again. He’s surprised when he feels himself break into a smile, but he allows himself the luxury of settling into the feeling of it.

They’re both quiet for a very long time. Adam is almost asleep when he hears Langa’s soft, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He twists himself to look up at Langa, who is already gazing down at him with a serene expression.

Langa takes a deep breath and lets it out. It ruffles Adam’s now-unruly hair. He’s almost self-conscious about it until he remembers it was Langa’s hands that made it that way.

“For everything,” Langa says. “I was pretty lost when I moved here. Skating with you has made me feel alive for the first time since my dad died. And being with you like this feels right. I’ve never had feelings for someone before. It feels… nice.”

Inexplicably, Adam feels himself choke up. His words catch in his throat, making it difficult to do much but nod his head and tighten his hold around Langa’s middle.

When was the last time he was thanked sincerely for anything? When was the last time he was praised for doing something he loved? When was the last time someone really _wanted_ to be near him, not because they were ordered or paid to do so?

He feels his heart breaking inside his chest for all of the years he’s spent without anything like this. He’s repressed it all for so long, only letting out his frustrations with violence and aggression, and acknowledging it now seems like a dam about to break.

Perhaps Langa notices, or perhaps he doesn’t; he rearranges their limbs until they’re lying side by side and rests a hand against Adam’s cheek. His thumb strokes gently across Adam’s cheekbone as he just watches and soothes.

“I don’t know much about you,” Langa says after a while, “but I want to. I feel connected to you.”

“I feel it, too,” Adam concedes. That nasty, lonely part inside of him fights against the words. It says that he’s felt this same connection dozens of times before. It says that the more Langa gets to know him, the more he’ll grow to hate him, just like everyone else. But he fights it. He tells himself that Langa keeps coming back for more. That Langa has heard the stories and seen how he is at S and still seeks him out and claims to enjoy his company.

When Langa brushes beneath his bottom eyelid, Adam is shocked and embarrassed to feel moisture on his skin. He turns to duck his head, but Langa pulls him back up to meet his eyes.

“You don’t have to hide who you are from me.” He presses a soft kiss to Adam’s lips and stays close after. “I won’t hide who I am from you.”

Normally, Adam likes to smoke after sex.

Tonight he doesn’t feel the urge.


	6. Chapter 6

The kid is driving Kojiro _nuts_.

Yeah, fighting with a friend sucks, but that doesn’t mean Reki has to come into _his_ restaurant and mope up the place. He’s worse than Kaoru when Carla’s battery dies.

Speaking of whom… Kaoru hasn’t been around in a few days. Idly, Kojiro wonders if he should call, but decides against it; they aren’t _close_ , after all. He rolls his eyes at that stupid thought and accidentally smashes the meatball he’s supposed to be forming into a ball.

He glares out at the dining room. He’s in a particularly sour mood today and trying very hard not to think of the _why_ or _who_ that might be behind it.

Well. Just a few more hours, and then he can close up and skate out some of this frustration.

He drops the reformed meatball into the frying pan along with the others for the two orders he’s making and falls back into the serenity of cooking. It’s nice and peaceful in the kitchen, though he knows that sentiment isn’t often shared by his kitchen staff or other chefs. Kitchens, as a general rule, are hot and hectic. There are too many people in too small a space, there’s constant motion, and everything within reach is a potential injury waiting to happen. But the act of cooking lets Kojiro achieve a kind of calm he doesn’t get with anything else.

Kojiro is able to juggle several components of a dish at once. He couldn’t always, but it’s a skill he learned in culinary school, like every other chef, and it helps to keep him busy and focused in the kitchen instead of standing around and waiting for things to get done one at a time.

There’s S tonight. It’s been a while since he’s gone, but tonight feels like a good night to go. He tells himself that it has _nothing_ to do with the off-chance that a certain fair-haired pain in his ass might show up.

The fact that he’s bothered by this at all is enough to have Kojiro pissed off at himself. Kaoru does this _all the time_ — he starts getting comfortable, and when Kojiro does anything even remotely considerate, he clams up and disappears for days or even weeks at a time. It’s really fucking annoying, and it gets harder every single time to keep pretending Kojiro isn’t at least a little hurt by it.

But whatever. If Kaoru wants to keep playing this weird game of avoidance and pretending that they don’t mean anything to each other, then Kojiro will keep playing. Kaoru will have to get over it eventually.

Right?

Although it _has_ been almost eight years, now. The reminder shoots a pang of regret through him that only serves to further frustrate him. There’s been something missing between them for a long time. Kojiro knows his anger is probably wrongfully misdirected, but Adam _had_ to have known what he was doing when he left. There’s more to the story that they didn’t hear and probably never will, but the wounds he left behind were very real.

With a grunt, he shakes himself out of his head and moves on to plating his dishes. Sometimes he wishes he worked in one of those restaurants where he could just cook whatever he wants and serve it up to people who will accept it without question, but there’s peace and comfort in routine, too.

Maybe that’s why he still goes along with this contentious act that they have going on.

Just like he has been the past four times Kojiro has emerged from the kitchen, Reki is sitting at the counter with his head down like the melodramatic teenager he is.

“You could at least order something if you’re going to take up all of my counter space. You’re costing me money, kid.”

Reki mumbles something unintelligible into the wood finish.

“Nobody wants to sit next to you while you exude an aura of misery. Also, take a shower.”

This, at least, gets Reki to lift his head up and glare at him. Kojiro shrugs. Sometimes the truth hurts.

“Whatever,” Reki mutters. “It’s not like you’re doing so great in the friend department, either.”

“I have friends!”

“Name one!”

Kojiro opens his mouth to retort but comes up short. Kaoru would be pissed if he found out Kojiro called him a friend behind his back, especially while they’re in one of their not-talking phases.

“Yeah, I thought so.”

“At least I have a job,” Kojiro says. He delivers the food and makes his sweep of the restaurant to make sure everything is okay. “Speaking of which, why aren’t you at DOPE? You don’t work today?”

“Langa works today.”

“And you don’t?”

“I’m not going over there while Langa is there.”

Kojiro rolls his eyes in a move far too reminiscent of Kaoru. “You can’t flake on your job just because you’re having a fight with your boyfriend.”

“He is _not_ my boyfriend,” Reki snaps. His tone is much more acidic than Kojiro is expecting, and it actually brings him up short.

“Okay. Got it.”

After a long pause, Reki says, much more subdued, “He made it pretty clear he’s not into me.”

Kojiro sighs. Thankfully the restaurant is calm right now, so he pulls up a seat at the counter. “You told him how you feel?”

“No, but I kind of… came out to him, I guess. And he told me nothing would change between us.”

“That sounds like he was just being a supportive friend. Does he even like guys?”

“He never said,” Reki admits. “But I’m pretty sure he’s into Adam.”

“Hmm.” Yeah, Kojiro is pretty sure, too. After the last time Langa came in, he and Kaoru talked about it a little bit, but at the time he thought it was just a puppy crush. “Why do you think that?”

“He’s been sneaking out to meet Adam at night,” Reki says miserably. “He told me so yesterday.”

“Aren’t they just skating together?”

“That’s what Langa says, but…”

“But?”

Reki looks at him imploringly. “You should see the way he lights up when he talks about Adam. If it was just about skating, he wouldn’t look like that. But he smiles whenever anyone brings him up, and when Adam is around, he’s all Langa can see. I can’t keep up anymore. He’s already so much better than me as a skater after just a few months, and if he’s falling in love with Adam—”

“Whoa, hang on there. Don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself? Love is a strong word.”

Reki sighs. “Maybe. I just… don’t think I’m wrong about this.”

Kojiro takes a moment to think about that. It’s a bad idea for Langa. Kojiro has said it before, but he’ll get his heart broken if he falls for Adam. Kojiro has seen it happen before. It still fills him with resentment to think about it.

“Well, maybe it’s especially important he has you as a friend, then.”

“How do you figure?”

“Let’s just say if you mess with the bull, you get the horns.”

Reki rolls his eyes. “Whatever _that_ means.”

“It means he’ll need a friend when he gets his heart broken, idiot.”

The message finally seems to get through as Reki’s expression melts into something more pensive. “Heartbroken, huh?”

“Seen it before. I guess Adam is kind of hard to get over.”

“I don’t get it,” Reki laments with a sigh. “What do people see in him?”

“He’s…” Kojiro thinks back to a time before all of this pain and heartache, when they were still kids goofing off and taking chances. “He was a good guy, before. He was fun and smart and charming. In a lot of ways, he’s still the same. He just got lost somewhere along the way, and I don’t know if he’ll ever find his way back.”

The memory of his announcement still sits heavy on Kojiro’s heart. He hadn’t even bothered to tell Kaoru beforehand, just dropped it on them both and left without so much as a proper goodbye. Kaoru’s expression as the two of them watched Ainosuke drive away together haunts Kojiro to this day. That night was the first and only time he’s seen Kaoru cry; since then, he’s had his heart locked away.

“To understand him, you’d have to know who he was when he was younger. You’d have to know his family. Adam didn’t have an easy time growing up. Kaoru and I only knew him for a few years before he started becoming the person he is now, but I think it was always in him, deep down. Just like I think his old self is still in there somewhere.”

“Hm.” Reki seems to be lost in thought, so, sensing the end of the conversation, Kojiro claps him on the back and rises to get back to work.

“Think about it. You don’t want to throw away a good friendship over something as fleeting as romance. If we all cut ties with the people who didn’t return our feelings, we’d miss out on a lot of important relationships.”

____________________

“Ridiculous over-muscled bag of meat.”

“Anal-retentive four-eyed robot boy.”

“Feeble-minded ape!”

“Miserable—!”

“Alright, break it up, you two.” Shadow steps in the middle to physically separate them. Kojiro’s heart is already pounding. He knew there’d be a chance of seeing Kaoru tonight if he came out, but the sting is always worse than expected after a separation, and tonight he’s already heartsore enough as it is.

Shadow takes a long chug of his water bottle and crushes it in his hand. “You should just fuck already and put the rest of us out of our misery.”

It’s said quietly enough that the bystanders shouldn’t have heard, but it feels like he’s broadcast it through a megaphone. Kojiro says, “Knock it off!” at the same time that Kaoru says, “As if I would ever let him touch me!” Their eyes meet after the fact, and if Kojiro didn’t know better, he might think he saw regret in those beautiful golden eyes.

As usual, there are girls all over the place screaming for both of them.

“Cherry! Please wave to me!”

“I love you, Joe!”

“I want to be your wife!”

“Please take me home with you!”

A group of girls nearby are staring and giggling, and when Kojiro glances in their direction, they waggle their fingers at him and beckon him over. With one last look back at Kaoru, who stares back unapologetically, he goes to them.

“Hey, girls. How are we tonight? Ready to see something you’ll never forget? And I don’t mean my skating.” He shoots the blonde on his right arm a wink, and she promptly melts. The others squeal and carry on, and Kojiro does his damned best to ignore the glare burning a hole in the back of his head.

It doesn’t seem like anything special is going on tonight. Kojiro still feels unsettled, even more so now, and it makes him itchy for something he can’t put his finger on.

There’s a girl with bright pink hair in the group who’s trying very hard to keep his attention, and he might be interested in giving her what she wants.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“I’m Sakura,” she answers. _Of course_. “But you can call me whatever you want.”

“Oh yeah? How about you let me call you mine tonight?” The girl honest-to-god swoons. He pulls her aside to a slightly less populated area of the track. They’re still completely within eyeshot of everyone around, but it gives them some semblance of privacy. As soon as they’re away from the group, she pushes Kojiro up against the fence.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” she says. “Ever since the first time I saw you.” Her hands are already working on his belt buckle; frankly, he’s not complaining, but he _is_ a little shocked by her shamelessness. It’s enough to fluster him a little, to make him freeze up and let it happen for lack of any other appropriate response, especially when she drops to her knees and gets to work on his pants. “I’m gonna show you what you’ve been missing all this time.”

They’re interrupted by Shadow’s disgusted cry of, “Nobody wants to see that!” and Kojiro instinctively looks back to where his usual crew is watching him. Kaoru’s expression is thunderous. He looks more upset than Kojiro has seen him in a long time. It doesn’t make any sense; Kojiro has been picking up girls in front of him for years, and Kaoru has never looked like _that_.

His traitorous heart drops to the bottom of his stomach, and he suddenly feels sick. Without thinking about it, he pushes the girl away and buttons himself back up while he stomps over to Kaoru.

“Do you have a problem, _Cherry Blossom_?”

He probably doesn’t have any right to be as angered by Kaoru’s reaction as he is, but he’s embarrassed at getting caught off guard— embarrassed at being _caught_ at all, _especially_ by Kaoru.

“With your public display of pornography? Other than the fact that you’re a shameless, disgusting dick-for-brains, no.”

Even if it’s true, Kojiro is in no mood for whatever _this_ is tonight.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Tell that to Sakura.”

Kaoru’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Her name is _Sakura_?”

“Yep. Do you have a problem _now_?”

If looks could kill…

Kojiro knows he’s hit a nerve when Kaoru launches himself at him. He recoils on instinct, but Shadow holds Kaoru back before he can get his hands on Kojiro.

“BEEF!”

The crowd roars to life at the declaration. It doesn’t matter that Shadow is the one who said it; now that it’s out there, neither one of them can back down or they risk their reputation.

“You’re a son of a bitch,” Kaoru hisses. “A really sorry son of a bitch, you know that?”

“Yeah, maybe I am,” Kojiro agrees lowly. “But at least I know what I want.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” Kojiro snaps. “And if I win, we’re going to talk about it.”

“That’s not going to happen, Gorilla.”

“We’ll see.”

They line up at the start. Already, adrenaline courses through Kojiro’s veins. It’s almost as if he can see his vision sharpen as he lets the thrum of S take over. The five start lights blink to life, and then they’re off.

Kojiro is faster and stronger. He always has been. But he can feel Kaoru keeping close pace behind him, just like he can hear Carla guiding him through the race. It makes him see red. Kaoru was great before he had Carla telling him what to do. He may be a more _efficient_ skater now, but he’s lost his joy. He doesn’t skate with his heart anymore. That’s why Kojiro is going to win this.

“You’ll never catch me, Cherry. Once we get to the end, we’ll settle this once and for all.”

A chanced glance behind him shows Kaoru’s downturned brows and tense stance.

“There’s nothing to settle. There’s nothing to discuss.”

“You’re full of it.”

He pushes himself harder, and he knows Kaoru does the same in turn.

They make it all the way to the factory before Kaoru catches up. “Carla, what are Joe’s chances of winning?”

“At the current trajectory, he stands a 27.8% chance of winning.”

“Hm, unacceptable,” Kaoru says. “Why don’t we bring that number down a little lower?” He ollies into a frontside noseslide, letting his momentum carry him farther ahead until he has to land it. Kojiro pushes himself harder, but it’s obvious that Kaoru planned to wait until now to get ahead because he knows this is Kojiro’s weakest area.

“No chance of catching up,” Carla taunts from up ahead, and she’s right. At this speed, this close to the end, Kojiro doesn’t stand a chance. He pushes himself anyway, and at the end, the nose of his board crosses the line at the same time as the tail of Kaoru’s.

Joe kicks up his board and holds it behind his head while he catches his breath. Kaoru is panting, too, bust just a little— he never overexerts himself too much.

“I told you it wasn’t going to happen. Stop holding your breath.”

The rage he’s been building comes out, and he throws his board down in a fit of misdirected aggression.

“Damn it, Kaoru!”

“ _Don’t you dare call me that!_ ”

“You know what? Fine! If you want to keep playing this little game, you go right ahead. But I’m done.” Kojiro’s heart feels crushed. Something has changed between them tonight, and he’s not sure if it’s his own fault or Kaoru’s. It stings and throbs inside him, but he can’t bring himself to take the words back.

Kaoru sputters uncharacteristically as he trips over his response. “I don’t know what game you’re talking about.”

“Save it,” Kojiro mutters, shoving past him to collect his board and assess the damage. “I’m done.”

On his way out, he catches sight of Langa watching the scene. He notes that he’s not dressed in his usual style, but he doesn’t pinpoint why the familiar-looking shirt bothers him until later that night, when he’s on the edge of sleep and trying to think of anything but the gaping pit in his stomach.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the awful political/business dialogue 😂

It’s routine by now to stand around and wait while Ainosuke skates with the boy late at night, but that doesn’t make it any less tiresome. Tadashi has been watching Ainosuke fall into and out of love for years, practically Ainosuke’s entire life, but rarely has it ever gone anywhere.

There was once, many years ago, with the boy who left behind the shirt that Ainosuke’s new love interest has taken to wearing, but he and Ainosuke don’t speak anymore.

At the time, Tadashi hoped that having someone there for Ainosuke would help with the self-destructive behavior, but it didn’t; the boy got crushed almost as badly as Tadashi, in the end.

This new boy isn’t helping anything. He’s a distraction at best, and a ticking time bomb at worst. He’s too young, too naive, too single-minded. He’s too much like Ainosuke. He’s going to hurt Ainosuke in the end, and there’s nothing Tadashi can do about it— Ainosuke will never accept Tadashi’s help again.

After Langa pulls off a particularly impressive maneuver, Ainosuke grins and takes him in his arms. Tadashi averts his eyes as Langa rises to his toes to meet Ainosuke for a kiss; just because he has to be here doesn’t mean he has to watch.

It’s been… a challenge, since the two of them got together. They are free with their affection, and the way Ainosuke behaves as if Tadashi doesn’t exist influences Langa to behave the same way. They both know that Tadashi will never give away their secret, and so they pretend he’s not there, that he can’t see and hear everything they do together. That it means nothing to him to hear Ainosuke refer to Langa as his Eve.

He is just a dog, after all. He has no opinions.

Maybe it’s the coward’s way out, to act impassive and unaffected by Ainosuke’s theatrics, but it’s what has to be done. Ainosuke has made it clear that whatever relationship they previously had, platonic or otherwise, is to be left in the past and forgotten. But Tadashi hasn’t forgotten— he’ll never forget. He _can’t_ forget.

The sounds of skateboarding pick back up again, and Tadashi sighs. Not for the first time, he wonders if teaching Ainosuke to skate was the wrong thing to do. Would he have turned out this way otherwise? Would he have been happier if he’d never learned?

It’s impossible to say. All Tadashi knows is the regret and loneliness that have followed him since the day Ainosuke lost his freedom.

____________________

“Reschedule my meeting, Tadashi.”

Tadashi looks up from his tablet where he’s already coordinating Ainosuke’s schedule for the next week. “Today’s meeting with the police department? But, sir, you’ve already—”

“Tadashi.”

Against his better judgement, Tadashi agrees. It’s not his place to offer advice. It’s not his place to have a voice. He is but an extension of Ainosuke-sama, only here to bend to his will, not to offer question, concern, or commentary.

He makes the necessary call. The police chief is understandably furious.

“We have serious concerns about the changes to our patrol routes as of late,” the chief says. “This is something that needs to be addressed immediately. We have already been rescheduled once.”

“Ainosuke-sama is a very busy man, I’m sure you understand. He expresses his regrets, and would like to reschedule at your earliest convenience.”

“Unbelievable,” the chief mutters under his breath. Tadashi pretends not to hear it. Louder, he says, “Of course. Thank you for your time.”

Later, in a meeting to discuss the mishandling of money and potential legal repercussions of those actions, Ainosuke pays little to no attention. Normally, he is attentive and pleasant during meetings, but lately he is more distracted than ever. The way his fingers dance across the table in front of him may not register as odd to anyone else, aside from his general lack of professionalism, but Tadashi recognizes the movements; all Ainosuke needs is a fingerboard to give himself away completely.

Ainosuke flits his gaze up to Tadashi and catches him staring. Tadashi averts his eyes; he’s not actually _trying_ to make Ainosuke mad, though that does seem to be the result of everything he says or does.

But Tadashi has gotten good at pretending his heart doesn’t break every time he’s reminded that his mere existence is offensive to Ainosuke now.

“Please excuse me,” Ainosuke says to the room at large, tone light and smile pleasant, as always. “I’m afraid I’m terrible company today. I sincerely apologize. Please take care of this matter. I trust you all to do what is best.”

The conference room breaks out into chatter. “Ainosuke, please sit. We have far more to discuss.”

“If this matter isn’t handled as delicately as possible, it could mean the end of your political career and shame on the Shindo name!”

Ainosuke just smiles. “I have complete confidence that my loving aunts will have no problem protecting the Shindo name, and that all affected parties will act within the best interests of the Diet.” His expression darkens when he meets Tadashi’s eyes again. “And anyway, if it’s my career on the line, wouldn’t it be better if I had no knowledge of these goings-on?”

It’s a clear challenge to the room, and a veiled threat to Tadashi. Tadashi knows what that means; he is Ainosuke’s scapegoat, should anything happen. As per their agreement.

____________________

_“Disturbing news in the political world today as the Diet comes under fire for allegations of racketeering and tax fraud. As of now, there is no official word about which members of the Diet were directly involved in the scandal, but public opinion has already begun to plummet, and the general climate is growing more and more unsteady as we wait for word about what will be done in response to these allegations…”_

The newscast drones on in the background. Tadashi feels a migraine coming on, which of course he will have to endure for the time being until he is released of his duty for the night. Beside him, Ainosuke’s phone lights up incessantly with text messages, emails, and phone calls that are directed straight to voicemail. Of course, Ainosuke can’t be bothered with any of this while he’s at S, nor does Tadashi think he would care even if he were here to see it for himself.

Tadashi flips through the camera feeds to follow along while Ainosuke skates. He’s already beaten four people down the track, none of them having made it to the bottom so far.

It’s mean.

He’s only doing it to cause pain, now; before, Ainosuke used to say he was searching for his other half, his “Eve,” someone who understands him in a way nobody else has ever come close.

That’s mean, too, but Tadashi lost the privilege of being that person when he betrayed Ainosuke’s trust.

The boy isn’t here tonight, which Tadashi suspects is the reason Ainosuke is behaving in such a particularly brutal fashion. He’s been a wreck since the boy told him he’d be missing the event in favor of making nice with that loud redhead.

He’s lucky nobody has called the police.

Ainosuke lines up for his next race, and Tadashi watches as Joe and Cherry Blossom flank him on either side. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re as angry as he’s ever seen them.

_“…no comment from the Diet so far, but we’re hearing rumors that Shindo Ainosuke of the revered Shindo family may have played a part…”_

The phone continues to buzz and buzz and buzz, and still Ainosuke tortures the skaters who revere him.

On the screen, Ainosuke yanks his arm away from Cherry Blossom and turns on him. They exchange heated words before Joe steps in front of Cherry Blossom to block him from Ainosuke’s raised arm. Tadashi furrows his brow as he watches; Ainosuke may be vicious and violent with those he deems worthless, but Tadashi _never_ thought he would raise a hand to Cherry Blossom.

While Joe and Ainosuke argue, Tadashi wishes desperately to hear what they’re saying. Instead, he watches Cherry Blossom; it’s only from years of being around him as a teenager that Tadashi can interpret the pain behind all of the anger. He’s much more stoic and reserved now than he was back then, but to anyone who truly knows him, he’s easy to read. But even to those who don’t, the way he stays close to Joe is telling.

_“…carelessness or something more malicious? It’s difficult to say. Some members have yet to be reached for comment, and sources say that the longer they wait, the less credible their testimony becomes…”_

Tadashi’s own phone rings in his breast pocket, and he knows it’s his time to answer. Ainosuke can’t be reached, and they’ll need his testimony either way. Tadashi has his orders.

It’s not the right thing to do, and he knows it. It won’t help Ainosuke the way he needs to be helped. But Tadashi’s heart is foolish and broken, and even after everything Ainosuke has done, Tadashi would still do anything for him.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, spares one last look at the screen where Ainosuke is still arguing with Joe, and answers the phone.

“This is Kikuchi.”


	8. Chapter 8

“You know, I could make you boys dinner if you’re hungry,” Langa’s mom says as Langa balances an armful of snacks.

“We’re fine.”

“I hope Reki doesn’t go home and tell his mother I let him eat like this when he’s here. Really, I’m perfectly happy to cook you a balanced meal, Langa!”

Reki walks into the room, probably summoned by the sound of his name. “I’m always happy to eat your cooking!” he says to Langa’s mom.

“That settles it. I’m cooking.”

As she rises from her chair and reaches for the remote to turn off the TV, a name spoken by the reporter on screen catches Langa’s attention.

“Wait!” His mother and Reki both turn to give Langa curious looks. “What are they talking about?” he asks. He’s not big on politics, and the lingo is confusing enough in English that hearing it in Japanese is pretty much a lost cause, but he knows the name Shindo Ainosuke when he hears it.

“Since when do you care about the news?” his mom teases.

“I… don’t, really.” He strains to listen, but only catches the bare bones of what’s going on. He’s not picking up on the nuances of whatever they’re saying. “So? What’s going on?”

“Oh, just some politician caught up in a financial scheme of some kind. I wasn’t following it very closely.”

Langa shoots Reki a pleading look, which Reki returns with understandable confusion. Right. Reki doesn’t know why Langa cares about Shindo Ainosuke.

“What’s going to happen to him?”

With all of the nonchalance of a mother indulging her son in something she knows he won’t care about in a few minutes (no matter how off base that is), she explains the situation. “So apparently he’s a pretty big deal around here— young, charming, likable, smart. I’ve heard people talk about him before, but I don’t know much about him. I guess his family has been in politics for a long time, and now they’re under fire for stealing money or something. They haven’t been able to get ahold of him for comment, though, so there’s not much of a story yet.”

Langa’s stomach lurches. “And if he’s guilty?”

“Some jail time, probably. Though I’m sure it will be one of those nice minimum-security ones where the white collar criminals go.”

As if on cue, the TV reporter says, “ _…being told that a to-be-named party has come forward to plead guilty of all charges— namely, the ones leveled against Shindo. The person in question is apparently Shindo’s personal secretary and a long-time friend of the Shindo family. It makes you wonder what could drive a person to do such a thing…_ ”

Langa drops the snacks in shock. There is only one person he knows who would willingly take the fall for Adam, and no matter how coldly Tadashi has behaved toward Langa until now, Langa knows he’s not a bad person.

“Langa? Honey? You’re white as a sheet.” His mother comes over and places a hand on his forehead to check his temperature, but he bats it away.

“I’m fine,” he says.

He is absolutely _not_ fine.

Reki is already picking up the snacks, and when he brushes past Langa to put them away, he gives him a funny look. “You good, dude?”

“Yeah.” He has to pull himself together. There’s no reason for Langa, seventeen-year-old Canadian high school student, to care about a Japanese politician or his secretary. “Yeah, sorry.” He needs a plan. He needs to see Adam. He needs to hear his side of this, talk it out, find out if Tadashi really _did_ do those things, or if…

But even if Langa has seen the way Adam treats Tadashi, would he really let him take the fall for something like this? Would Adam let Tadashi go to jail in his place?

Langa briefly entertains the idea that Tadashi really _did_ do all of the things the news says he did, but he knows in his heart that can’t be true. Adam’s relationship with Tadashi may be the way it is for a reason, but Langa can tell how much Tadashi loves him, whether he means to show it or not.

But… maybe Adam _can’t_ tell. Adam is such a lonely person; Langa has gotten to know him well enough to understand that. He’s come to learn that Adam has a warped view of himself and the people around him. To everyone else he’s all bluster and showy overconfidence, but Langa has seen him late at night on the edge of sleep when there’s no one to perform for. He’s seen the way Adam reacts when he’s touched a certain way. He’s watched Adam interact with Tadashi in the morning, before Adam is fully awake, when he’s still a little bit soft and warm, before he puts on his mask, and he knows that deep down, all of the hatred is a wall. There’s something there between them, but Langa doesn’t know what it is or why it changed.

“Earth to Langa.” A hand waves in front of his face, snapping Langa out of his thought spiral. “Get it together, man. What, do you have a crush on that guy or something?”

Langa’s lack of a response is telling, he knows. But he can’t bring himself to say no.

“Dude, _what_? You met him for like two minutes—”

“Let’s go to my room.” He grabs Reki by the arm and pulls him out of earshot of his mother. The second the door closes, he starts gathering his stuff. “We have to go to S.”

“What?! Langa, what the heck. What’s gotten into you?”

“I have to see Adam,” he says. “I have to talk to him.”

Reki’s face falls. “I thought tonight was just gonna be the two of us. Like old times.”

“It’s an emergency.” Langa feels crazy. He whirls on Reki, desperate to make him understand. “I swear, Reki, I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important. I’m worried.”

“About what?”

Langa chews his lip, debating with himself the pros and cons of telling Reki everything.

“Reki, please listen to me. We’re friends, right?”

“I— yeah, of course.”

“And you trust me?”

“…Yeah.”

“Reki. You have to trust me, or else I can’t tell you what’s going on.”

Reki grits his teeth, but after a few seconds, he lets out a long breath and nods. “Yeah. Of course.” Without meeting Langa’s eyes, he says, “Sorry. I’m just… a little jealous.” A squirmy feeling inside Langa doesn’t want to acknowledge that, and it must show on his face because Reki is quick to add, “I meant as a friend! I just miss hanging out, that’s all.” He’s blushing, but he’s being honest.

Langa sighs. “Me too. I’m really glad we’re talking again. I missed you a lot.”

“You did?”

“Well, yeah. I love Adam, but I need my best friend, too.”

There’s a long, loaded pause in which they both take that in.

“You love him?”

It’s asked quietly, carefully— appropriately for how Langa feels like he’s going to crack open unless he sees Adam soon.

“Yes.”

Reki takes a breath in, lets it out. He squares his shoulders. He smiles.

“Let’s go, then.”

____________________

By the time they make it to Crazy Rock, the place has been abandoned. It’s a mess, stuff scattered everywhere like everyone had to leave in a hurry. Adam is nowhere to be found.

Langa pulls out his phone and hits the call button, but it rings through to voicemail. He calls again, and again, and again, and he gets the machine every time. After several tries, he leaves a brief message — “Ai, call me. I’m worried.” — and hangs up.

Reki’s questioning look morphs into understanding, and then disbelief.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

The disappointment of missing Adam sits heavy in Langa’s gut. It feels hopeless. Adam could be anywhere. He could be in trouble. And without Tadashi, where would he go? How would he get out of here? Did Tadashi take him home before he turned himself in?

Yeah, that has to be it. Tadashi took him home, and now Adam can’t answer the phone because he’s finding a way to make everything better.

Right?

Right, of course.

“My best friend is dating the most important man in Okinawa,” Reki muses, kicking idly at stray rocks. “Damn.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

Reki looks up at him. “He could be in real trouble right now, you know.”

“I know.” Langa’s breath is shaky. “I’m…”

What else is there to say? He waits for the _I told you so_ , or the disapproving frown, or the general disdain Reki has shown for Adam since their beef.

Instead, Reki surprises him by pulling him in for a hug that is sorely needed.

“Let’s go back to your place,” Reki suggests, releasing him and walking back over to get his things from where he’d dropped them when they arrived. “He’ll call, okay? There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

Langa nods. He has a bad feeling about all of this.

____________________

Langa’s phone buzzes sometime after four in the morning. Normally he’d sleep through it, but tonight he fell asleep with it in his hand, waiting for Adam to call him back.

Barely awake, he brings the phone to his ear with a garbled, “Hello?”

“Langa.”

The sound of Adam’s voice snaps Langa awake, and he sits up in bed. “Ai? Are you okay?”

“I want you.”

His voice is gruff and cold. Langa looks around his room; his eyes land on Reki sleeping on the futon on the floor. “Reki is here,” he says.

There’s a beat of silence, then, “You’re choosing him over me, then.”

“Wait, no—!” Langa curses in English under his breath. _Why_ are all of the men in his life like this?! “Ai, don’t go. Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

“Langa?” Reki stirs where he sleeps, rubbing his heavy eyelids with the heels of his hands.

On the phone, Adam says, “I’m at your house. I don’t have the car.”

“Okay, I’m coming outside.” To Reki, he says, “Go back to sleep. I’ll be right back.”

Reki sleeps like the dead, so he’s out cold again before Langa makes it out of the room. It’s late enough that he can use the front door without worrying about waking anyone up, but Adam isn’t there when he gets outside. He walks around the side of his house and finds Adam standing in shadow with his skateboard. It’s not until Langa gets closer that he notices the state of him: he’s not wearing his jacket, leaving him in his red pants, waistcoat, and tie over his white shirt. His tie is hanging loosely around his neck like he tried to yank it off and then left it there. His hair, rather than being styled in its usual purposeful mess, hangs limply over his eyes. And when he raises his head at the sound of Langa’s approach, Langa can see the bruise marring his eye clearly, even in the dark.

“Ai,” Langa breathes, hurrying over to him. He lifts his hands to hold Adam’s face, but Adam smacks them away and recoils. It stings deeply, but after the night he’s had, Langa can’t blame him for being defensive. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Are you okay?”

Adam doesn’t answer, just turns and presses Langa against the wall. One hand presses against Langa’s abdomen, pushing up his sleep shirt and pressing him harder against the side of the house. Langa gasps but lets it happen; if Adam needs this, he’s more than happy to oblige.

He smells like cigarettes and tastes like sweat and dirt. When he presses his lips to Langa’s neck, Langa cranes it to give him better access. When he sinks his teeth into the delicate skin there a little too hard, Langa whimpers but doesn’t pull back. When he sucks a hickey way too big to be hidden, Langa doesn’t ask him to stop; he loves it.

Whatever this is, whatever Adam needs from him right now, is rougher than they normally are together. Adam’s other hand twists in Langa’s hair and maneuvers him whichever way Adam sees fit. It reminds Langa of the first time they skated together, when he had no choice but to play Adam’s game. It was exhilarating then, and it’s just as exhilarating now.

“Ai,” he pants as he feels Adam’s hard cock press against him, separated only by the thin fabric of Langa’s pajama pants, and he wonders how he missed Adam unbuttoning his own pants. “Ai, we can’t fuck out here.”

Adam growls. “Then let’s go inside.”

“We can’t. Let’s just— let’s go to your place.”

“I can’t go back there tonight.” He kisses Langa hard on the mouth. It doesn’t feel sweet or vulnerable like the kisses they’ve shared before. It feels angry.

“Adam, please.” The name slips out by accident. He’s grown used to calling him by his nickname since they got together, because he knows Adam likes it, but this doesn’t feel like the Ai he’s come to know. He’s hard, too, but worried at the idea of Reki or his mom finding them out here like this; normally he’d probably find the idea of it exciting, but right now he’s too worried about Adam’s well-being to enjoy the thrill. “Adam—”

“Call me Ai,” Adam insists. “Don’t call me Adam.” He begins to stroke himself off. “Come on. Do this with me.”

“What if someone sees?”

“ _Let them_.” He touches the top of Langa’s pants but doesn’t pull them down. “I want this,” he whispers. “I need this.”

After another moment’s hesitation, Langa nods. It’s late. Nobody will see. They’ll be quiet. “Okay.”

It _is_ thrilling, in a wonderful and horrible way, when Adam turns him around and pulls down his pants to press inside. It stings, but Langa is quick to adapt, forcing himself to relax and enjoy the friction. With every thrust he’s pushed harder up against the wall, and that hurts a little too, but it’s so _hot_ and _wrong_ and before he knows it, he’s coming with a long groan at the same time that Adam spills inside him.

They stay that way for a long time, panting and spent from the fast and reckless sex, until Adam pulls out and tries to pull away. Langa turns and catches him, pulls him down into a kiss that holds all of his love and concern and desperation.

“What happened to your eye?” he asks when he can bring himself to break the kiss.

“Joe punched me.”

A shock runs through Langa. He knows Joe; Joe doesn’t punch without a good reason. He’s not that kind of person.

“I deserved it.”

“You didn’t,” Langa says out of pure defensive reflex, but he doesn’t know if it’s true. He knows that Adam has a history with Joe and Cherry, and he doesn’t know what that history is. He knows Adam has a tendency to not care who he hurts. It scares him, but he sees the person inside who just wants to be loved, and so he can’t bring himself to think badly of Adam at all.

“I threatened Cherry,” Adam says. His tone is low and quiet, quieter than the sounds of the night around them, but Langa hears every word loudly and clearly. “You weren’t there tonight. It was terrible. None of them are worth my time.”

“I’m sorry,” Langa whispers. “I came back to find you, when I heard about…”

“Tadashi.”

Hesitantly, Langa nods. “Is he okay?”

“He’s gone.” Adam’s voice is a mere whisper now. “He left me.”

The part of Langa that thought he had this relationship under control begins to crack. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know how to handle all of this. It’s so much.

But he loves him. That much, he does know.

He tries to pull Adam close, but he resists again. Langa tries not to take it personally — he doesn’t know why Adam reacts this way to touch, but it hurts. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “I’m here. Please let me help.”

Adam’s mind is somewhere far away. He’s never like this when they’re together. And Langa isn’t upset about it, can’t blame him for it, but it’s _hard_.

Yet Adam does lean on him. He rests his forehead on Langa’s shoulder and lets Langa hold his weight. He’s heavy, but Langa can hold him up. He… he can do this. He can be there for Adam when he has no one else.

When Adam’s large frame begins to shake, Langa questions his own strength. And when the shoulder of his sleep shirt becomes damp, he feels fear start to creep in.

And when Adam kisses him through his tears and pulls away to whisper, “I can’t. I can’t,” Langa’s heart shatters.

“I’m here,” he pleads. “I love you.”

Adam turns to go. “So did Tadashi. And now he’s gone.”

____________________

He won’t see Adam again for several months.

____________________

Langa can’t sleep. He lies in bed and wonders what happened, where it all went wrong. He’s wearing Adam’s old shirt and the necklace Adam gave him and staring at the ceiling, dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

His ass hurts and when he swallows, the bruise on his neck hurts too. And most of all, his heart hurts, because he does’t know what he did wrong, or _if_ he did something wrong, and when he calls Adam’s phone it goes straight to voicemail.

Sun shines through the blinds and casts everything in the golden yellow glow of morning. It’s warm, and the birds are singing, and Reki snores where he sleeps because he hasn’t woken up since Langa got the call almost four hours ago.

It’s awful.

Nobody told him love would be so painful. They told him that Adam would hurt him. They told him that Adam was dangerous. They told him to stay away. But they never told him he would still be in love when it was all over.

It doesn’t even feel real. It feels like every time he finds something he loves, something else gets taken away. His dad, snowboarding, his friendship with Reki, his relationship with Adam. It’s not possible to have everything. No matter what happens, he’ll have to give up something he loves.

Last night, for a few brief, fleeting hours, he had a best friend _and_ a man he was head-over-heels in love with.

Well, he supposes, at least he still has his friend.

Another tear slips out of the corner of his eye. He can’t stop thinking about the time he spent with Adam, from the first time they met, to the first time Langa realized he _could_ feel romantic love and attraction, to the first night they spent together, to the words whispered in secret that made Langa feel like everything was finally falling into place.

And now it’s all crumbling down, and on top of being heartsick and deeply sad, he’s also worried.

Reki stirs, and Langa hastily wipes the evidence of his heartbreak from his eyes.

“Morning,” Reki mutters. Langa tries to answer but can’t get out the words. He clears his throat and tries again, and all he can manage is a choked, “Morning,” in return.

“Did I imagine it, or did you get up and leave in the middle of the night?”

Langa can’t answer. He can’t talk about it because it hurts too badly, and if he says it out loud, then it’s really over.

“Langa? Are you okay?”

Reki sits up and peers over at Langa. Langa, who can’t hold it all inside no matter how much he wants to, because it keeps leaking out of his eyes.

“Hey.” Reki’s expression is soft with understanding when Langa finally looks. “It’s gonna be okay,” Reki says. “I promise. You’ll be okay.”

Langa doesn’t know if he believes it; the words are a band-aid on a bullet wound, but at least something is better than nothing. He turns onto his side and curls into himself and cries.


	9. Chapter 9

The weeks following that night at S are a blur for most of the people involved. It’s upsetting in the way that forgetting the details of a memory you treasure is upsetting. One moment, Kaoru is lining up to skate against Adam, and the next it’s six weeks later and everything has changed.

Adam has disappeared— not just from politics or the public eye, but altogether. Tadashi was released after some very compelling evidence came to light, thanks to an anonymous leak, proving that he could not have done what he claimed to do. The three matriarchs of the Shindo family have been incarcerated for fraud, embezzlement, conspiracy to commit fraud, and a handful of other charges unrelated to their true evils. Kaoru hopes they rot in prison for all the pain they’ve brought Adam.

It’s taken a long time to get to the point where Kaoru feels he can move on. Maybe it’s because Adam is gone now, and nobody knows where he went or if he’ll ever come back. He hopes that Adam finds peace, wherever he is, because god knows he needs it.

It feels a little too much like the last time he disappeared, and Cherry sees the reflection of himself in Langa when they cross paths now and again.

Langa is doing better than expected— or at least, he’s doing much better than Cherry did when the same thing happened to him at Langa’s age. He smiles and laughs and eats (and eats and eats) and skates with Reki and Miya and some others. But in quiet moments, when no one else is watching, Cherry can see the soul-deep sadness that lingers, the loneliness of being left behind by his first love.

Still, he’s the same kid he always was. There’s a lot to respect about that.

It’s late, now. The sun set a long time ago, the studio closed for several hours, and yet Kaoru can’t bring himself to go home. He sits and watches the window. There’s not much happening so late at night, but…

“Carla, what’s the time?”

“The time is 22:37.”

“Thank you, Carla.”

Thirty-seven minutes past closing time. Probably close to the time a certain head chef would be heading home after cleaning up.

Maybe it’s time.

Kaoru’s anxiety spikes at the thought of seeking Kojiro out after several weeks of silence, but he’s a big enough person to admit that he’s let his personal problems get in the way of their friendship long enough. He centers himself for several minutes, then packs up what he needs, unplugs Carla from the wall, and goes.

Kojiro is just locking up when Kaoru arrives. He doesn’t see Kaoru at first, stopping just to double check that the door is locked, but when he turns to leave, he stops short at the sight of him.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He just waits.

Kaoru wonders when the hell Kojiro learned to keep his idiotic mouth shut. The realization that Kaoru will have to initiate the conversation brings him another spike of anxiety, but he can do it.

“Let’s have a drink.”

For one horrible, brief moment, he thinks Kojiro might say no, but after a few seconds he nods and begins to walk toward the nightclub district. Kaoru reaches out for him but aborts the action. Kojiro still catches it in his periphery, though, and stops to turn and look at Kaoru with an arched eyebrow.

“At my place,” Kaoru says. He can feel his face growing redder with every second Kojiro looks at him.

Finally, Kojiro sighs. “What is this, Kaoru?”

Kaoru has to fight the knee-jerk reaction to snap or say something sarcastic. It’s hard to be vulnerable, harder still for Kaoru than for most people, but he’s trying.

“I want to talk.”

“About what?”

“You know what.”

“I don’t. I never know what you’re thinking. You’re always hiding it from me.”

His nose itches in that way it does when he’s upset. He has to stop himself from trying to rub the feeling away. Maybe Kojiro can tell, because he always can, even when he claims that Kaoru hides everything from him. He sighs but changes direction nonetheless.

“Are you alright?” Kaoru asks after a while. “Your hand.”

“Ah.” Kojiro lifts his hand and makes a show of flexing all of his fingers a few times. There are faint bruises on his knuckles, but otherwise it looks fine. “Good as new,” he says. “That prick may be hardheaded, but I’ve dealt with worse.” He gives Kaoru a sidelong look that makes Kaoru’s cheeks heat.

It’s nice, though. It feels good.

When they arrive, Kaoru sets to work brewing tea for the both of them. The ritual of it helps calm his nerves. Kojiro continues to wait, more patient than Kaoru has ever seen him, or maybe he’s just decided it’s not worth trying to make the effort anymore.

Kaoru hopes with everything he is that that isn’t it.

He’s thought long and hard about this conversation, and yet, he still has no idea how to begin. He serves the tea and sits across from Kojiro and watches him drink.

“When you said you wanted a drink, I assumed you meant alcohol.”

“I have sake,” Kaoru says, standing again to get it.

“You don’t have to,” Kojiro says quietly. “Tea is fine.”

“I’ll get the sake.”

It’s easier to speak, at least, when his hands have something to do. Splitting the focus between serving and speaking at least takes half of the pressure off of the speaking part. Kaoru has never been shy with his words, but he’s been protective of his heart for a long, long time, and speaking his fears into the world is not something that makes him feel comfortable.

“Adam is gone,” he says. It’s not a graceful start, but it’s something.

“I know.”

“Snow seems to be doing okay.”

“I think he’s just going by Langa, now.”

“Hm. Right. He still wears my old t-shirt.”

“Give him time. He’ll find someone new,” Kojiro says, something knowing in his voice. “He’s resilient.”

“Hm.” Kaoru takes a sip of his sake. It’s warm and comforting.

“Kaoru.”

The sound of his name in Kojiro’s voice cracks something. He lifts his cup to his lips again and hopes Kojiro can’t see his hands shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Kaoru says at long last, head bowed. “I’ve been cold to you for a long time, and it’s not your fault.”

Kojiro’s face softens at the admission. “You’re not cold, Kaoru. And I think I understand you better than you think.”

Again, the urge to sass back has to be quashed; it’s a defense mechanism as much as it is a part of who he is.

“This isn’t easy for me,” he grits out. “I— care about you a great deal, Kojiro. I thought you knew that.”

“I _do_ know that,” Kojiro says, with feeling. “It would just be nice to hear it sometimes.”

“I know.” Kaoru closes his eyes. Subconsciously, his hand reaches for his Carla bracelet. The feeling of the smooth metal grounds him. “I don’t mean to hurt you,” he admits. “I’m just scared.”

He jumps when he feels Kojiro’s fingers brush the back of his hand. His immediate instinct is to pull away, but he fights it.

“When we were young…” His hand twitches beneath Kojiro’s with the urge to hold it. This time, he doesn’t stop himself. He lets his heart guide him. “I got my heart broken. And I didn’t handle it well.”

“You handled it fine.” Kojiro’s voice is soft and understanding. “It’s okay to feel things, Kaoru. And when you do, I’ll be here for you. You’re not alone. You never have been.”

Kaoru feels himself choke up with years of repressed emotions. It’s so much easier to be angry than it is to feel pain or fear or sorrow. But it’s time to move on. Grow up. Set his heart free.

“I want him to come back,” Kaoru says, and he holds Kojiro’s hand tightly when he makes to pull away. “But not for me. For us. And for Langa. And because… after all this time, I want him to find happiness. I don’t want him to be alone anymore.” The next part is difficult to say, but he feels strong with Kojiro’s hand in his. “I know I’m not alone. And you aren’t, either.”

Kojiro’s smile is slight and soft and absolutely radiant. “I know.”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting for so long. I’m ready now, if…” He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but it doesn’t matter.

Kojiro’s answer comes in the form of his other hand on Kaoru’s cheek, his smile pressed lovingly to Kaoru’s lips. “I love you, you impossible man.”

It’s too embarrassing to say it back just yet. He will, someday. Maybe soon. For now, he just kisses Kojiro the way he’s been afraid to for years. It’s the best kiss he’s ever had.

____________________

Langa doesn’t know why he keeps coming back here. Sometimes other people still show up to hang out, but S, as it was, no longer exists.

And that’s okay.

But Langa finds himself here more often than not on nights he can’t sleep. He comes alone and doesn’t do much, just breathes it in and remembers the feeling it used to give him.

He thinks about Adam a lot. Does he still go by Adam? Langa’s not sure. It’s been close to a year since Adam left, and he hasn’t heard from him since.

Tonight, he hears the crunch of car tires on the dirt and lifts his gaze to see who’s joining him. Sometimes it’s Shadow, coming to blow off steam. Sometimes it’s Miya looking for Reki, but Reki has bitter memories of S, and he doesn’t like to come here anymore. Every now and then, on very rare occasion, Cherry and Joe show up together and skate just for fun. It’s nice. If there’s one good thing that came out of all of this, it’s that those two finally seem happy, even if they still bicker and tease each other relentlessly.

It’s none of those people, tonight.

Tonight, it’s a nondescript black car that immediately lodges Langa’s heart in his throat. It’s not the _same_ car, not even half as nice as the town car, but just the resemblance is enough.

He doesn’t have to wait for the door to open to know he’s right.

Adam looks different. Better in some ways, worse in others. He’s still beautiful and fierce and exciting; there’s just something about the way he carries himself. He’s less severe, maybe. His hair is loose around his face, his bangs not quite covering his eyes, but close. He smiles as he approaches, and when he’s stood beside Langa, he stops and reaches into his pocket.

“Mind if I smoke?” He still uses the same silver cigarette case from before.

He’s still tall and broad and handsome.

Langa shakes his head, and Adam lights his cigarette. He takes a long drag, holds it in, savors it, breathes it out. “I can smoke any time I want, now,” he says. “It takes a little of the pleasure out of it, but, well. Old habits die hard.” His gaze slides to the corner of his eye, watching Langa. “How are things?”

For some reason, the question shocks Langa. Of all the things he expected to say or hear, “How are things?” seemed the least likely.

“Things are good,” he answers honestly. “Joe and Cherry are together.”

Adam’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, accentuating the bow of his upper lip. Langa feels a pang of regret, old and sore, that he’ll never get to kiss it again. That the last time he kissed it ended the way it did. He pushes the feeling down. It’s long over, and that’s okay.

“Are they, now.” It doesn’t sound like a question so much as an observation. “And you?”

He thinks for a minute that he should lie, say he’s with someone else and never thinks about Adam anymore. He also thinks about telling him no, he’s still in love with Adam, he misses him every day. He doesn’t say either thing. Instead, he says, “I’m good.”

Adam doesn’t respond, but Langa knew he wouldn’t. Langa has spent a lot of time over the past several months thinking about what happened, if he could have done anything differently, why things ended the way they did. It took a long time to accept that it was nothing he did and nothing he could have done; they weren’t right together, then. It never would have worked out.

Now… Langa isn’t sure what he wants, now.

“Why did you go?” he asks, because if nothing else, he has to know that.

Adam takes another long drag on his cigarette, then seems to grow bored of it and tamps it out with his shoe.

“I’m not like you, Langa. I’m not a normal person. There are many things I never learned to do, like love or share. I didn’t understand our relationship when we were together.” He looks at Langa again, directly this time. “I didn’t understand the way you touched me or spoke to me. I didn’t believe you when you said you would be there.”

Langa opens his mouth to argue, horrified that he made Adam feel that way, but Adam interrupts.

“It wasn’t anything you did, Langa. I loved you. Truly, I did, the best I knew how. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to give or receive the kind of love you and I tried to have.”

It’s an incredibly sad sentiment; Langa realizes all over again how little he really knows about Adam, yet he still loves him. He still wants him to be happy.

There’s someone else who wanted that for Adam, too, Langa remembers.

“How is Tadashi?”

Adam smiles again, that genuine smile that looks so different from the one he used to wear. He looks so much softer, now. “He’s fine.” He turns back to the car and nods, and Tadashi steps out of the driver’s seat. He doesn’t approach, but he nods at Langa. His expression is cool, but when he slides his gaze over to Adam, he _smiles_.

“Are you and Tadashi…?”

Adam huffs a dry laugh. “Friends.”

The sun will rise in a few hours. It will be a new day.

“What about you and the redhead?”

“Reki.”

“Yes. Reki.”

“Friends.”

There’s still something that’s bothering him. He wonders if it’s worth asking, argues with himself about whether or not it’s a good idea, but self-preservation has never been Langa’s strong suit.

“Hey, Adam?”

“Hm?”

“If you could do it all again…”

“I’d do it the same,” Adam says. “But that doesn’t matter. Don’t get stuck in the past, Langa. Look toward the future.”

“What about the present?”

“Hm. What, indeed.”

“Adam?”

“You don’t have to call me that anymore, if you don’t want to.”

“I still like it,” Langa says. It means something to him, now.

“Alright.”

“Adam, do you still love me?”

Adam doesn’t answer yet, just steps into Langa’s space, brushes the hair from his face. After so many months, his touch is like a rainstorm after a drought.

“I’m not sure,” he answers. “I think so.”

“I still love you.”

Adam’s fingers trail down the side of Langa’s face, gentle and adoring. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

How could he ever be sorry? Loving Adam is the best thing Langa has ever done.

And tomorrow is a new day. Anything could happen.

“Do you want to skate?” Langa asks.

Adam smiles. “Alright.”


End file.
